


The Rose and the Thorn

by keelywolfe



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Attempted Sexual Assault, Brotherly Affection, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Flirting, Florist AU, M/M, Mafia AU, Misunderstandings, Sexual Coercion, Teasing, Underfell Papyrus/Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans/Underswap Sans (Undertale), Unhealthy Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:55:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 58,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25409551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Everyone in the city has a story of their own but there's one in particular that Rus is very curious about.
Relationships: CherryBerry, Papyrus/Papyrus (Undertale), Sans/Sans (Undertale), Spicyhoney, Underfell Papyrus/Underswap Papyrus, Underfell Sans/Underswap Sans
Comments: 621
Kudos: 375





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, man, there was a thread on twitter about Mafiatale Edge and Underswap Papyrus, and I needed at least a taste! Posting it outside of my shorts collection just in case I'm inspired for more.

* * *

If there was one thing Rus learned working in his brother’s shop, aside from how to make a lovely bouquet, it was that everyone in the city had a story. From the fresh-faced kid scraping together enough change to buy a lonely carnation to the grim-faced man handing over his black Amex credit card for the enormous floral arrangement all tied up in a bow. Everyone had their own story and Rus only caught a glimpse of it, from the moment they walked through his door until the time it swung shut again behind him. 

He never got to see the end, whether it was a happily ever after or not, but eh, that was the price of doing business. Usually it didn’t bother him, except for one of their regulars and there was no one tale that Rus wondered about more. 

A skeleton Monster, like he was, but that was where the similarities ended. To begin with, he towered over Rus and that was not something that happened often. His skull was formed into sharp, angular lines, his teeth as jagged as a sawblade and a crack ran through one of his sockets, bisecting it around a burning crimson eye light. 

He probably gave the Humans a bit of a start when they first caught sight of him, but that wasn’t what caught Rus’s curiosity, not at all. Monsters came in all flavors, after all, didn’t bother him any.

No, this guy’s story flowed deeper than that; it was in his clothes, the fine suit he wore that probably cost more money than their little shop made in a day even during prom season. It was the glimpse of a gun holster Rus saw once inside his jacket when their regular patron reached out to take his purchase. 

And it was the purchase itself. A single crimson rose to match those eye lights, the cold stem snapped off by the base so he could tuck it into his buttonhole. He paid cash every day and was gone as quick as that, the bell jangling over the door as he walked back out. 

There was a story there and Rus wished fiercely he could know what it was. Some days he daydreamed a profession for his mysterious patron. Magician was a popular one or on his more morbid days, funeral director. Secret service would explain the gun, of course, but so could simply living in the city. Guy wearing a suit like that might need a little extra protection. 

Wasn't like Rus could ask, he'd already tried that route once. A few weeks ago, he'd gone with the bold approach and asked him out for dinner, then had the chance to regret it when his patron very politely refused. Stupid to even try, what guy in Italian silk wanted to get burgers with a florist shop clerk?

Honestly, Rus figured that was the end of it right there. He'd made their professional relationship a little too personal and Rus figured Mister Nice Suit wouldn't be back. 

He'd been pretty surprised to be proven wrong when he came back in the very next day and gotten his usual, a single red rose. 

Still, after that Rus stuck with the daydreams and if a couple of them got a little racy, eh, the shop was boring in the afternoons, all right? Not like anyone could read his mind and he kept to the strictly professional whenever their regular came in.

Like now. The bell over the door was one Blue found, an old brass shop bell that he decided offered a much better atmosphere than an electronic chime, a rich jangle that anyone could hear all the way to the refrigerated coolers in the back.

“good morning!” Rus sang out as he always did. He set his broom aside and walked behind the counter where a single rose was already waiting in the front cooler. Yeah, yeah, so what, he went and chose one every morning when he first got in. Blue was always telling him about the importance of customer service.

“Good morning,” their patron replied, and Rus did not allow it to show anywhere above the counter-top at his waist that his knees went to jell-o at the sound of that rich, deep voice. Maybe voice-over actor deserved a spotlight in his daydreams, nothing so crass as a movie trailer ‘in a world!’ guy but reading poetry, letting that buttery voice soak into the pages like on a hot biscuit.

He realized he was standing there staring up at the guy like a moron when their patron politely cleared his throat and hell, even that sounded sexy.

“sorry, um, woolgathering there,” Rus laughed awkwardly. “just the usual, right?”

“Yes, thank you,” Mister Nice Suit reached into the inner pocket of his namesake’s jacket to pull out his wallet 

Rus got into the cooler and couldn’t resist taking a quick sniff of the lovely, furled petals. A rose by any other name might smell as sweet, but no roses smelled as lovely as the ones his brother grew. 

He turned back to the counter and held it out by the stem, and when his patron took it, his gloved fingers brushed against Rus’s. 

“Thank you,” he said again, with gravity that didn’t belong to a simple exchange of goods for cash, but that sent a wave of butterflies through Rus’s soul. His daydreams today were going to be filled with that voice and he was just reaching for the bill when the other skeleton jerked, his head whipping towards the window. 

Before Rus could so much as blink, Mister Nice Suit was hopping the counter and pushing Rus down to the floor with him. The tiles were hard on his hands and knees and Rus grunted, his ‘what the hell’ never made it past a thought as all hell suddenly broke loose.

A deafening explosion of broken glass came from overhead, showering down as pebbles over them and carrying with it the rich smell of loam and potting soil. Dimly, Rus knew he cried out, but he couldn’t hear anything, nothing but the little bangs popping around them. It made him think of firecrackers two days after the fourth of July, shocking in its unexpectedness. 

Instinctively, he clung to the sturdy body next to him, burying his face into the broad chest. A strong arm was suddenly around his shoulders, holding him in close as the other skeleton moved and those little popping explosions were suddenly closer, too close. Rus cringed and clung harder, his bony fingers digging into fine linen and silk as he gripped like one of the ivy vines that ran around the wooden beams in the ceiling.

As quickly as it happened, it was over, the sudden silence broken only by the tinny warble of the local radio station that played from Blue’s old radio. The staticky crackled wavered in and out, finally dying out and there was nothing but the echo still ringing through Rus’s skull.

“Are you all right?” The words didn’t quite register through the clamor in his head. What Rus did know was that warm, safe body was trying to pull away from him. He whimpered, clinging tighter and it stopped, settling back down. A large gloved hand settled on the back of his skull even as a low, soothing murmur started up, easing him back until Rus could look up into the face above him. 

“Are you all right?” The other skeleton repeated patiently. 

“i…yes? i think…maybe…” Rus stammered. The steadying hand on the back of his skull petted soothingly, gloved fingers gentle against bone. 

“Give it a moment,” he suggested, “Take a deep breath.” The other skeleton followed his own instruction, taking a breath like a demonstration and any other time it might’ve been humiliating for a gorgeous person to be trying to teach him how to breathe. Today, Rus only obeyed, taking a long, slow breath, distantly noting that Mister Nice Suit wore equally nice cologne. Rus choked as he let that breath back out, abruptly taking in the sight of his brother’s store. 

“oh, fuck,” Rus whispered. It looked like a war took a quick tromp through their shop. All the glass cases were busted out, shards littering the floor along with heaps of potting soil and broken pottery from the planters and knickknacks Blue kept around the shop. The bruised perfume of damaged flowers filled the air and even their front door was broken, hanging drunkenly on the hinges, the little brass bell fallen forlornly to the floor with the rest of the wreckage. 

Everything his brother worked so hard for, gone, and why? For what, what had even happened?

He turned back to the other skeleton and it was only then that Rus realized that he was holding that gun in his other hand. Gunfire, those explosions were gunfire, his mind supplied him helpfully, someone tried to kill his not-a-magician, not-a-mortician, still-maybe-secret-service rose buyer. 

This hadn’t made an appearance in any of his daydreams. 

“Who are you?” Rus asked. His voice sounded too small to be his own.

“You can call me Edge,” he replied, which so did not answer the question. “This was my fault, I’m sorry.”

“your fault that people tried to kill you?” That didn’t seem right. Did it?

“No, but it is my fault that it affected your shop. I was too complacent, followed the same routine for too long to see you.” He smiled a little and Rus stared at it, mesmerized. It made him look even better, wow, and he almost missed hearing the other skeleton say, “You don’t wear a name tag, I was hoping if I kept coming in, I’d overhear your name.”

“…what?” Rus blurted, “but you turned me down!”

“I did. To keep something like this from happening.” Sirens were starting to blare in the distance, coming closer as Mister—no, his name was Edge, moved away, tucking that gun away back into its holster. “I’m sorry, I need to go. I’ll handle the damages.”

“wait, but…i don’t understand!” Rus swallowed hard, croaking out, “my name is—”

“Don’t.” A gloved finger settled across his mouth, silencing him. “It would only make it harder to leave. Take care, flower shop boy.” Edge hesitated, then leaned in to brush a kiss across Rus’s mouth. 

Then with a swirl of his fine jacket, he was gone.

“what just happened?” Rus asked the empty shop. All that came back was the tinkle of a piece of glass falling and the ever louder sirens. His mouth tingled as if that light kiss had a magic of its own, infusing him with heady warmth.

Rus looked around the shop again and lying amidst spilled potting soil and pottery shards was a long stem rose. His fingers were trembling as he picked it up, the crimson petals bruised and sparkling with a diamond dusting of glass, beauty and danger all in one. 

He leaned against the counter weakly, rose in hand, and waited for the police, wondering what the hell he was going to tell Blue. 

-fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please look at the beautiful artwork that Ric did for this story!! [ Check it out here!! ](https://twitter.com/bonetired3/status/1288100627877441536)
> 
> Maddie Blay also did some lovely artwork for these boys: [ See it here!](https://keelywolfe.tumblr.com/post/624385504470859776/maddieblay-sketch-inspired-by-keelywolfe)
> 
> Please let them know how amazing their art is!! 🧡


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Considering that having their shop destroyed was one of the more upsetting events in Rus's life, it was kinda insulting how bored the officer who was taking his statement looked. When they’d come in, guns blazing, it’d honestly been scarier than the whole event that caused all this and for a second, Rus was honestly afraid they were gonna shoot him. 

His apron with its embroidered rose on the front panel finally seemed to clue them in that he was supposed to be here and he’d gotten out unscathed. Now that it was clear there was no one to arrest, both officers seemed more irritated than helpful. Rus wasn't entirely sure this guy was even writing any notes and wasn't instead scribbling a picture of Pikachu or something. The Pokémon would probably have been a better detective to show up. 

Then again, Rus wasn't really much help. There wasn’t much for him to tell them about the shooter and he wasn’t sure exactly why, but he kept his description of Edge deliberately vague. Wasn’t like they could catch him in a lie, the only video camera they had was a plastic fake, more hopeful deterrence than anything useful. 

Not that the police cared, anyway; violence against Monsters was common, especially outside of the Monster neighborhoods, or as the Human locals quaintly called it, the dust bowl.

"Brother!" Rus jerked at the sound of Blue's voice, turning to see him pushing through the front door. His steps slowed as he took in the floral carnage, his expression turning to one of aghast horror.

“hey, bro.” Rus said meekly, cringing. He’d only had a chance to send Blue a quick text before the officers came rolling in. His hasty ‘store got shot up, i’m fine, need to come in’ probably hadn’t been very reassuring. “looks bad i know, but we’ll get it cleaned up—“

Before he could finish, Blue marched right over to Rus, paying no mind to the glass crunching underfoot as he yanked him down by his apron front into a hug, sniffling out, "Thank the angel you’re all right.”

"bro, seriously!" The complaint that Blue was embarrassing him clogged in his throat. Not like the cops were paying any attention, anyway.

"This is why we have insurance, Rus," Blue whispered fiercely against the side of his skull. "You are irreplaceable."

"Speaking of insurance, here's the police report number for it," the bored-looking cop said, holding out a card. "If you want a paper copy, you can come down to the station in a coupla days."

"Thank you, officer," Blue said, finally letting go of Rus to take it. Probably only Rus picked up on his faint distaste. There were few Monsters without at least one bad run-in with the local PD at one time or another and Blue had the parking tickets to prove it.

The officers all shuffled their way out the door and left them there to deal with the remnants of Blue’s shop on their own.

Blue turned in a circle, taking in the damages again with a bracing sigh, standing up straight with squared shoulders as he said brightly, “Well! Let’s get sweeping, shall we, and you can tell me what exactly happened?”

Brooms in hand, they got to work, but truthfully, Rus didn’t have much more to tell Blue than he had the police. He’d been helping a customer when someone started firing into the shop and Rus hadn’t caught so much of a glimpse as to who. His attention had been on the rose, on Edge, and the only thing he’d seen was the wreckage of the aftermath. With the police, he hadn’t outright said it, but he’d heavily implied the customer was a Human to keep them from going out to look for Edge. To Blue, he admitted it was a Monster he’d been serving, one that he didn’t know, and the consensus from all was that it was a hate crime against Monsters, yawn, same old, same old, moving on. 

Weird as it was, even with his brother Rus was strangely reluctant to talk too much about Edge. Blue didn’t usually come into the shop until the afternoon, too busy tending to the little patch of their garden in the backyard, coaxing them daily into new blooms for Rus to bring in. So he’d never been here when Edge came in before and maybe it was stupid, but Rus wanted to keep that little secret to himself. 

Besides, it wasn’t like it mattered. He wasn’t gonna see his mysterious, dangerous stranger again outside of his refreshed daydreams. Even now a new mental script was getting its final touches and maybe this time when the shooting was over, Edge would scoop him up into his arms, carry him out of the shop and their kiss would be—

“Knock knock, anybody home?"

The voice floated in from the very broken front door that Blue was trying to decide how to board up until it could be repaired. 

“I’m terribly sorry, we’re closed right now,” Blue bustled over. “There was a small incident, but we’ll be opening our doors again soon!” 

He stepped back in surprise as a large Monster in paint-spattered coveralls shuffled inside. He was one of the Mole clan, his small eyes almost squinted shut against the bright sunshine coming in through the broken windows. 

“Yeah, we know,” the Mole grunted. “An incident.” He leaned down to hold out a beefy hand that Blue hesitantly shook, “Name’s Murphy. We’re here to get working on it.”

“Oh, but,” Blue sputtered, “I’m sorry, I haven’t even contacted our insurance.”

Murphy pushed his baseball cap back, his broad, whiskered face placid. "Already paid for.”

“Paid for…? By whom?”

“Bossman.” Was all Murphy said, then a louder shout, “Get your asses in here, let’s get to work!”

From outside came a burly Bear Monster and another Mole, both carrying equipment. Blue stumbled back to stand with Rus, both of them watching with mirrored dumbfounded expressions as the three of them started on the broken windows. Well, Rus wasn't quite as dumbfounded; he had an inkling who their mysterious benefactor was and his name rhymed with pledge and ledge and sexy as hell. 

They worked with brisk efficiency and by the time rush hour traffic outside was easing, the windows were replaced and a fresh decal declaring the store ‘The Flower Shop Around The Corner’ was affixed to it. Where or how they’d gotten it all so quickly, Rus couldn’t fathom, and Blue was as flabbergasted as he. All the broken planters and glass were swept away and although the store was painfully empty, all it needed was a fresh set of lovely arrangements and they would be back in business. 

“New coolers will be delivered by tomorrow morning,” Murphy grunted, swiping at his brow with a rumpled bandanna. The other two were gathering up their equipment to carry it back out their brand-new door. “You got anything that needs an emergency loaner for tonight?”

“No,” Blue told him. His bewilderment was still obvious. “We’ve already put everything that could be recovered into the coolers in the back.”

Murphy nodded. “Good. This here is your invoice and some documentation of the damages.” He handed Blue a printout and an envelope stuffed with photographs that they’d been snapping along the way, quickly printed at the pharmacy across the street. “You give those pictures to your insurance along with that and you take the money they offer, you hear me?”

“Oh, but you said it was paid for?” Blue said uncertainly. “I’m not sure who would but…if it’s paid for, surely the insurance needn’t cover anything?”

A surprisingly wolfish grin for a Mole spread over Murphy’s face, showing off his prominent front teeth. “Paid for, yep, that it is. You pay your insurance on time?”

“Well, of course I do!”

“Never late?” Murphy prodded, “Hand over your hard-earned cash to ‘em to keep your little shop safe? Then you give them that and you take the money, you get me?”

“I think so,” Blue said slowly. He glanced at Rus who only shrugged. Any money from their insurance would be a welcome boon for the loans they were still paying.

“Don’t forget to add up what all your little daisies were worth, too.” With that, Murphy turned around and shuffled back out of their lives as quickly as he’d come into it. Rus and Blue watched him go, then turned to look at each other and the sense of a shrug was heavy in the air.

“Well! That was certainly…” Blue trailed off and shook his head. “Let’s go home, Papy, and get some dinner, shall we?”

“Dinner sounds great, bro,” Rus said honestly. His soul felt like it was gonna start gnawing on the inside of his rib cage. 

“Wonderful! I was thinking of trying a new recipe from that book I got at the librarby…library,” Blue corrected, “I have most of the ingredients, I’ll only have to make a few substitutions.”

That gnawing hunger turned tail into something closer to a whimper and Rus tried not to let it show on his face. His big brother tried so hard when it came to the household stuff. Their tiny home was pristine, the old shabby wallpaper peeled away and replaced with sunny yellow paint, the curtains hemmed by hand and the garden, the most important feature of their carefully chosen property, was laid out in ruler-straight lines, each bloom coaxed to its fullest potential. That it was all hidden behind a tall fence with plenty of protection spells on it didn’t matter, it was lovely to see for them, all of it, and it was theirs. 

Cooking, however, was where Blue’s endless enthusiasm hadn’t managed yet to make a dent. Rus still shuddered to remember the time he’d substituted ranch dressing for yogurt under the theory they were both white-ish. Might’ve worked better if he hadn’t been making banana muffins at the time. 

Rus was almost ashamed of his relief as Blue went on, “…but I may have to leave that for tomorrow, it is getting late. How do you feel about sandwiches?”

“sandwiches are fine,” Rus said, trying not to sound too enthused. “peanut butter and extra honey?”

“You’ve had a long day, brother,” Blue told him. He leaned against Rus’s leg, his head at hip-level, and smiled crookedly up at him, “I’ll let you put the honey on yourself.”

“deal!” Rus laughed and he followed Blue out the door where their brass bell rang anew, pausing only to set the alarm as they headed for the van.

* * *

That night, Rus thought he might have bad dreams from what had happened. Turned out, his psyche was pretty unfazed by all that action. He was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow and he only woke to his alarm the next morning. 

Last night, he and Blue came up with a plan over their sandwich dinners. He’d head in and get some basket arrangements started for any deliveries that came in from their website the night before. Blue would come out later in the van with fresh flowers and they’d finish the baskets together so that Blue could get working on the deliveries and Rus could unload the rest of the stock.

Rus showered and dressed in record time, heading out with only a little muzziness still lingering. His backpack was leaning next to the door and not where he’d slung it into a chair the night before and a quick peek found a bagged lunch ready for him. Another sandwich, he saw with relief, apple wedges and a few carefully wrapped slices of cheese.

He’d left his stripes behind a while ago, but Blue hadn’t managed to dump all his big brother protectiveness yet, and if it was annoying sometimes, that irritation was never against a tasty lunch.

At the bus stop, Rus kept his hoodie pulled up over his skull, keeping back from the Humans milling around the bench seat while he snuck a cigarette. Hopefully the smell would be mostly gone by the time Blue came into the shop and if it wasn’t, that’s why some clever Human invented Febreze. 

A shame that most Humans weren’t clever enough to realize Monsters weren’t any kind of threat to them. Or maybe it was a lack of kindness that had the other riders sending glares at Rus as he settled into his usual seat at the front of the bus. Not all of the drivers were as distrusting as their passengers and this guy was one of the nicer ones, he’d offered Rus a nod as he tapped his bus pass. Sitting by the front where the driver could possibly intercede if anyone got riled up was safer and if they didn’t, Rus always knew a shortcut for a quick exit. He preferred not to use them in front of the Humans, but hey, in case of emergency, break minds, right?

His stop wasn’t too far away. Blue wanted the store in the Human shopping district to get more business, but not so far away it would be difficult for him to go back and forth from the garden. Rus hopped easily down the bus steps at the stop, his long legs carrying him quickly away from the crowd of Humans behind him. They wouldn’t be opening up until noon today to give Blue some time to drum up the inventory, so he had a few extra minutes. Maybe he’d stop up the street for a coffee, the scones were always fresh at that shop and—

He didn’t see the two burly Monsters coming up on him until they were both right beside him, squashing him in-between their large bodies. A faint sting registered at his cervical vertebrae, like an insect bite although Rus didn’t know any insects on the surface that could penetrate bone. He rubbed the spot automatically, trying to step away from the two Monsters, complaining, “hey, look out!”

Only they weren’t impatient commuters trying to push past him. They were guiding him along with painful grips, Dog Monsters, Rus realized, each dressed in a black suit and wearing sunglasses even though the sun was barely past the horizon. One of them growled out, "Boss wants to have a chat."

Rus’s ‘who the fuck’ never made it past a thought. A long gleaming black car pulled up directly next to them and before he could protest, he was shoved through an open door directly into the backseat. 

He scrambled to sit up, his soul pounding, and he could feel the car pulling away from the curb the second the door slammed shut. Teleporting from a moving vehicle was risky but no more than staying in an unknown car after a random kidnapping, Rus figured. He concentrated, focusing his mental exit on their shop and…nothing.

He tried again, a sour taste rising at the back of his mouth. His magic was right there and yet somehow out of reach, what in the name of fuck was going on?

“you can go ahead and quit that,” came from the seat across from him, “i wanted to make sure we’d have a chance to chat before you toddled away. just a little concoction that suppresses your magic, it’ll wear off soon enough.”

“who are you?” Rus blurted. He couldn't see a face, there were glaringly bright lights shining from the ceiling directly at him, blinding him. All he caught was a fleeting flash of gold and a glimpse of three burning red eyes. Automatically, he thought of Edge but no, that voice was nothing like the smooth death-by-chocolate one that filled his recent daydreams. This voice was rough with damage, a harsh croak coming from the darkness.

The car was probably the nicest Rus had ever been in. Leather seats buttery-soft, the wheels gliding along the road effortlessly. A dark glass shield kept the driver from sight and there was probably a mini-fridge back here somewhere with bottles of Evian water ready to be mixed with an aged whiskey to cut the peaty smokiness. He might’ve even enjoyed the ride if that expensive interior wasn’t also filled with an aura of menacing and foul smoke, and Rus realized that third light was no eye, but a lit cigar burning.

“who i am don’t really matter.” A fresh rush of that cigar smell filled the air on an exhale and Rus held back a cough. “your name is papyrus. not very creative, pretty common name for a skeleton. you and your bro live over in the projects in the swap neighborhood. last year you two got a permit to open shop out with the humies.”

“that hardly seems fair, you know an awful lot about me,” Rus said warily. 

“well, see, i been awful curious to see you,” that unseen person chuckled, “see, i checked into it and your little shop ain’t paid any protection money. normal cut is ten percent but, eh, out here with all this extra business, i’d say twenty’s more’n fair. and yet, not a nickel nor dime’s made it my way.”

“prot-we don’t need protection!” Rus sputtered. 

“no?” A cloud of exhaled smoke on a chuckle filled the small space. “tell that to your little shop.” The seat creaked as the other Monster leaned forward, still showing nothing more than crimson eyes through the glare of lights. “you wanna tell me what your relationship is with edge?"

"how did you know—" Rus broke off. Well, that put the kibosh on outright denial, didn't it. “we don't have any sort of relationship. he shops at my store sometimes.” Impulsively, Rus added, “i don't think he'll be back again.”

"no? no kind of relationship, you ain’t on our list, but he threw together some boys to come fix up your place right quick. hm. interestin’.” He drew out the word like warm, bitter molasses, “in-ter-rest-in."

"i think he was being nice…who are you?" Rus burst out again. The little threads of his panic were starting to weave together and soon he’d be covered in a jittery blanket of fear. "and where are you taking me?"

That question was ignored. "huh, but you ain’t bad on the eyes. bet you’re even better on your back.” That rough voice lowered into a horrifying purr, “mighta offered you protection for free too, if you was part of the bargain. whatcha say, pretty? care to make it a double?”

Rus scooted into the furthest corner of the car, unable to swallow back his growing fear. He’d never felt so helpless, not even yesterday with the gunfire and glass raining down on them and where the comforting presence of his magic should be was only buzzing numbness, blocked away from him, he couldn’t, he couldn’t! "don’t touch me!”

That thin cry was less warning than a plea and around a rough chuckle Rus heard the hiss of a cigar being crushed out in an ashtray. "wouldn’t dream of it, precious.” Those eyes flicked to one of the tinted windows. "don't worry, we're almost at your stop.”

The car rolled smoothly to a halt without the wheezy squeal of the brakes their van always groaned out. One of the doors was almost ripped open, making Rus cringe from the sudden brilliance of the morning sunshine, and a hulking figure looming through the door only made him flinch back more. It took him a moment for recognition to hit, almost the same second the figure spoke.

"What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing," Edge snarled. 

"just havin' a little chat,” All light humor and absurdly teasing admonishment, that shifted like a whiplash to stinging fury, “which wouldna been necessary if you were doing your job right!"

Edge inhaled sharply through his nasal aperture, his teeth grinding together so hard Rus half-expected him to spit out a mouthful of dust. Instead, he turned to Rus and said curtly, "Get out of the car."

Rus scrambled for the opened door, half-expecting to be brutally yanked back inside. His would-be kidnapper didn’t make a move and Edge stepped back enough to let him get outside where he almost fell to the sidewalk, leaning against the pole of a street sign as he panted raggedly. 

He resisted the urge to grab hold of Edge and cling to him like yesterday. That would be bad, right? Yeah, probably bad right now. 

Edge only glared into the car, reaching in with one long arm. Instead of screaming or the sounds of blows there was only a rustle and Rus blinked in surprise as Edge pulled out his backpack, struck by incongruousness of the spongebob decal and the rattling anime pins against his expensive suit.

Edge viciously slammed the door shut and the car pulled away, blending back into traffic and gone as if it had never been there. 

“thanks,” Rus laughed nervously, “my hero.” 

He grunted in surprise and stumbled back a step as his backpack was abruptly thrust into his arms with a curt, “Go home.”

“but—" Rus gaped up at him, astonished. After all that, getting snagged off the street like some kind of heist movie, his shop getting shot up the day before, all Edge had for him was go home? Not damn well likely, “hold on a minute! i want some answers, here!”

“What you want doesn’t matter!” Edge snapped. His crimson eye lights blazed, his huge bulk looming over Rus, all of it a little too similar to the blank-faced asshole in the car and Rus swallowed back the renewed rush of fear. “What’s important is what I want, which is nothing! I don’t want your name, I don’t want your ridiculous flowers, I don’t want anything from you! Go home, go back to your little shop and your little life, and be grateful for it!”

Edge turned on his heel and stalked away, his expensive leather shoes strangely quiet on the sidewalk and Rus watched him go mutely, until he turned a corner and was out of sight.

He only realized he was crying when a drop of wetness landed on his hand where he was still clutching his backpack.

Impatiently, Rus wiped the tears away on his sleeve. Whatever, Edge obviously saved him from whoever that asshole was, Rus didn’t really have a right to complain that the rescue was a little less prince charming this time, did he?

Yeah, well, he was still gonna, even if it was only in his own head.

The day was warming up and Rus set his backpack down and stripped off his sweatshirt to stuff it inside, leaving him in his shirtsleeves and his work apron. If he had to use his sweatshirt as a quick Kleenex, well, he only better make sure he did the laundry this week.

A quick look around showed familiar buildings. He wasn’t far from the shop, Rus realized. They must’ve been driving around in circles. The coffee place with the scones he was craving was less than half a block away and Rus headed over because he damn well deserved it now. He kept his skull down and didn’t complain about the ‘Monsters Only’ line. Plenty of places still didn’t allow Monsters at all.

The barista refused to touch his travel mug, instead shoving his drink at him in a paper cup. She didn’t bother to even watch Rus drop his change in the tip jar. Once he was back outside, Rus poured the coffee into it himself, tossing the empty cup into the trash. One bite of his scone proved to be chokingly dry, probably leftover from yesterday. It followed the paper cup into the trash and Rus sighed as he started trudging his way to the shop.

Who would have guessed he could actually have a shittier day than yesterday?

At least car asshole’s prediction felt like it was coming true, that numbness where his magic should be was starting to tingle uncomfortably, his soul all one prickling itch. Probably soon it’d be back to normal. For now, it was time to get to work and maybe for today, he’d give the daydreams a rest.

The storefront at least still looked fine. Rus fished out his keys at almost the same moment a heavy hand landed on his shoulder, forcing him to turn. Rus sighed impatiently, “come on, guys, i don’t have time for this—"

The blow caught him off guard, pain blossoming across his face. Warm wetness ran over his mouth and Rus touched it with dazed, trembling fingers, staring uncomprehendingly at the redness on them.

That’s marrow, he realized numbly, droplets pattering down to stain his clean apron, they’d hit him but why—a second blow struck and the plastic mug tumbled from his hand, clattering on the pavement and splattered hot coffee across his shoes as Rus collapsed into darkness. 

* * *

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Some violence. A wee bit of unwanted touching and some innuendo.

* * *

Since they came to the surface, most of Rus's days were pretty much the same old, same old. He got up, yanked the blankets over his mussed sheets in a semblance of making the bed, and got dressed: uniform on workdays, and his grubs on days off. He’d go to the kitchen and make a pot of coffee in the wheezy old Bunn that Rus found in someone’s trash, tinkering with it in the evenings until he got it working. He’d drink a cup of coffee that always had a faint burnt note to it no matter how fresh it was, leaving the rest for Blue when he got up, and he’d head into the shop to make the floral arrangements for the afternoon deliveries. When his shift was over, currently doubles until they managed to hire someone who wouldn’t either steal from them or quit three days in, Rus would head home and shower away the stink of soil and plant food before flopping on the sofa to fall asleep in front of the tv until Blue came home and made dinner. 

He couldn’t say it was better than the Underground, but then, he couldn’t say it was worse either and once the newness of the Surface wore off it was, well, it just was. Such was life and all it meant was Rus tended to cling a bit to anything fresh and different; like a stranger wandering in on his mornings for a single red rose. 

He soaked those moments up like fuel for his what-ifs, his little daydreams as he worked with his clippers and floral wire, writing out small cards that declared ‘happy birthdays’ or ‘with love’ or ‘my condolences’. 

Same old, same old, sure, with a few bright spots in between.

This week, though, ah, this was a week of first. First time he'd been shot at, for sure, first time a mysteriously gorgeous stranger ever gave him a kiss, even if it was hardly more than a brush of teeth. First time the police ever put up even the pretense of being on his side without an unspoken warning to stay in his place.

Also, his first time at being kidnapped and Rus couldn't say that he was very happy that his second chance came so soon after. 

Point of fact, he was fucking terrified. 

He'd woken up with a dismally aching skull and his magic still lingering out of reach, unable to see as he struggled against bonds that held him immobile no matter how hard he fought, until the throb in his skill matched his freshly strained joints. From the way it felt, he was tied to a chair and he couldn't see because of a blindfold that didn't budge no matter how hard he shook his pained head. The throbbing pain was worsening, threatening to make him black out again and Rus finally subsided, trying to keep panic at bay as he took a mental assessment. 

His arms were uncomfortably bent and bound on either side of him at the wrists and he could feel the smoothness of wood against his bared forearms. His knees were tethered together, the joints straining as his feet were spread apart, each ankle tied to a separate chair leg. More ropes were wound around his upper body and across his femurs so when he tried to move, he couldn’t so much as rock the chair. He couldn't budge an inch in any direction without hurting himself which was probably the point. 

Worse, they hadn't gagged him and somehow that seemed more frightening, not less, that they didn't care if anyone heard him scream.

Rus licked his teeth, drying flecks of marrow clinging disgustingly to his tongue. Tentatively, he called, "hello?"

He thought he heard someone move, cocked his head in that direction.

"hello?" he persisted. "is anyone there?” His voice seemed to echo around him, reverberating, “please, this is all a mistake! i run a florist shop i…i'm nobody…"

_"Yes, we know."_

Rus jerked instinctively towards that voice, stupid, he couldn't see anything around the blindfold. Not even the glow that voice suggested he should, that was the language of the Fire Monsters, a strange combination of crackling and sibilant consonants. Almost impossible for anyone who wasn't flame to speak and the only reason Rus could understand it was because of a childhood friend.

This Monster didn't sound anywhere near as cheery as his old pal. Those brief, smoldering words were the cold burn of near frostbite and there was no echo, only silence followed them. 

Rus swallowed hard against the sudden dryness in his mouth, rasping out, “what do you want?”

There was a scrabbling shuffle of unknown feet and a new voice, “He said—"

“i know what he said!” Rus snapped. He choked off more desperately angry words, grimacing. His bro always said his mouth was gonna get him into trouble and yeah, this problem wasn’t one he’d started but better not to make it worse.

 _“Do you now.”_ A single step, the scrape of a shoe against concrete. _“Well, that is interesting. A flower shop clerk who can understand flame-speak, how…unusual.”_

What did that mean? Rus wasn’t sure and he didn’t know if he should explain his quirk with languages. His head ached painfully and so did his nasal aperture where he'd taken that hard punch. Licking at his teeth found one that was a little loose in its socket. He really hoped Blue could heal it. He really hoped Blue had a chance.

From close by came a soft murmur of indecipherable words and the sound of clawed footsteps walking away, a closing door.

An unexpectedly touch between his shoulder blades made Rus stifle a cry and he tried not to cringe as the heat blazed a path down his spine down before drawing away at the back of the chair. _“I admit, I was disappointed when I first saw you. His taste has certainly gone downhill.”_

There was an unspoken question there that Rus didn’t know how to answer. “please. what do you want?”

His question was ignored. _“But perhaps you have,”_ that crackling voice lowered, scalding hot breath gusting uncomfortably against the side of his skull, _“hidden depths. He’s quite enamored of you, isn’t he.”_

“who is?” Although Rus was very much afraid he already knew. 

The snap/pop of that scoff meant his captor knew as well. _“You’d best be careful, if you’re dealing with the Fells.”_ A swath of searing heat fell across his skull as a large, flaming hand settled on top of it, burning fingers lightly digging in, _“When they’re done with their toys, they break them.”_

Rus tried to nod, desperate to get away from that paining touch. That blazing grip only tightened, the temperature rising until Rus whined, cooling tears seeping from the corners of his sockets to wet the blindfold. 

_“You should be thanking me for the warning."_ The flame monster chided. There was an impression of a large body, moving closer, blanketing Rus entirely in heat as his voice whispered in lowered luminescence, _"Well? Thank me."_

"thank you," Rus gasped out. The grip on his skull released and Rus sagged against his bonds, breathing heavily. All his clothes were clinging sweatily to his bones, his wrists aching anew from chafing against the ropes. He hadn’t even been consciously trying to struggle, only desperate to get away from that painful heat…wait. Was that shouting he could hear? Some calamity was going on not far away, muffled through the walls and doors that Rus knew must be around him. 

It was impossible for hope not to swell in his soul, shriveling back when that aching heat shifted to stand in front of him. 

_“You do have a pretty mouth.”_ Thoughtfully, as Rus’s chin was gripped painfully in a simmering grip, a hot thumb smoothed over his teeth. A new, unthinkable fear rose in Rus, one he hadn’t considered; he’d been afraid for his life, not his body, but the implication was unmistakable. _“I’d give it a try but from the sound of things, that’s all the time we have together, lovely. We’ll have to play again sometime.”_ Then louder, he called, _“You’re slipping. I expected you much sooner, old friend.”_

The grip on Rus’s chin abruptly released and instead an arm slipped around his neck and tightened, his cervical vertebrae squalled in uncomfortable protest at a threatening upward tug. _“Ah ah. Not too close, darling.”_

“Stop this.” There was no halting the wave of shameful relief at Edge’s rich voice, oceanic and deep. Only to be choked away by the arm around his throat and Rus couldn’t move, but he couldn’t stop trying to thrash away from the pull that threatened to separate his skull from his neck, straining against the unyielding ropes as he tried to rise even a bare inch for some relief.

_“What? And spoil the game? See you soon, and do tell your brother I miss him, won’t you? Ta.”_

Then that agonizing grip released and the burning presence was abruptly gone, leaving Rus to sag against the ropes, gasping in sweet, cool air.

Rus’s blindfold was soaked with tears and sweat, clinging uncomfortably against his face. More tears felt like they were strangling in his bruised throat, desperate to be shed. It was difficult to hear anything over the aching pounding in his skull and the rattle of his bones as he trembled, but he couldn’t feel anyone close by, had they left him here, bound and helpless to anyone who might wander in?

“is anyone there?” Rus asked pathetically. All his panic seemed to have caved in, collapsed in on itself to numbness that left him empty and spent. Feebly, he tried to twist his hands free again, if he could only get one loose—

“Hold still, you’ll hurt yourself.” Unexpected and gently said, it set a candle flame of hope flickering in Rus’s soul and…no. No more flame metaphors, not today.

The blindfold was suddenly gone and Rus blinked at the flood of light, trying to see anything past a blur. When his vision cleared, he could see he was in a sort of warehouse, one that didn’t look like it’d been used in a long time. There were crates and broken pallets stacked all around them on a dusty floor and the overhead lights were sodium-yellow and dim.

Edge was already moving to kneel at his feet, inspecting the ropes binding him. Somehow, the way he moved, the powerful grace in his long legs as he bent to crouch before Rus was desperately appealing and fuck, Rus really was as stupid as their pop always said. All of this could be laid right back at Edge’s doorstep, he knew that, only his stupid libido didn’t seem to have gotten the message. Rus stifled it, stuffed it down back into the back of his mind with all the rest of the bullshit that usually crept out to taunt him in the middle of the night. 

Whatever Edge saw, he didn’t seem to like it; his brow bone pulled down into a frown and he made a low, rude sound before pulling something out of his pocket. Rus couldn’t help flinching from the mellow gleam of metal as a knife flicked out, but there was nowhere for him to go. He could only sit mutely as Edge got to work, the ropes parting easily beneath the sharpened blade until thy lay on the floor around them like thin, unmoving snakes.

A moment or an eternity later and he was loose. His shoulder joints felt sprung and achy, his hands flopping loosely into his lap as Rus tried to work feeling back into his fingers. The bones at his wrists were painfully chafed and bruises were already darkening the bone. He wondered absently where there might be other bruises, his ankles certainly, maybe at his knees, on his upper arms where the ropes dug in so terribly.

Edge stood next to him, waiting, his long coat pulled open by his hands in his trouser pockets. He seemed in no undue hurry, allowing Rus to assess the damages and he only spoke again when Rus finally looked up at him, pouring out all his desperate fears and confusion in one look. There were no answers forthcoming, Edge only held out a single gloved hand in offering.

"Come on," Edge said quietly. His clothing was unruffled, the same sort of obscenely expensive suit he’d always worn to the shop. Even his tie was perfectly straight, not a single snag in the rich crimson silk. He practically exuded calm competence and the only sign he might be feeling anything else was in his eye lights, the dimmed shadow of regret. "I'll take you to your brother.”

That sounded…that sounded like a slice of heaven right about now, to be wrapped up in the blanket of his brother’s love and concern. Rus ignored that extended hand and tried to stand on his own. His legs disagreed vehemently, knees achingly wobbly and he would have fallen to the ground if Edge didn't catch hold of him. 

“don’t!” Rus tried, but he couldn’t stop Edge from lifting him into his arms, his weak struggles useless against that strength. All the questions bleating around in his skull –who was that, what was going on, why is this happening— twittered away into a single painful realization, one that Rus’s daydreams never even considered. “you—” His breathing was a ragged sob, “you’re some kind of criminal, aren’t you!”

Edge didn’t deny it. He only walked towards the far side of the room where a large cargo door was hanging open, leading out into a hallway. 

He should have known. That scarred face he’d thought was so sexy was as much a warning as a damn sign, only it looked like Rus wasn’t very good at reading what was right in front of his sockets, too busy getting his panties wet to worry about the flashing neon ‘danger’ blinking in his face. 

Rus let his head fall against Edge’s shoulder, burying his face against his wool coat and uncaring that he was smearing it with tears and other fluids as he moaned out, “what have you gotten me into? what did you do?”

There was no answer and as they stepped out into the hallway, Rus could barely stifle a shriek as he caught sight of what lay within. There were bodies lying everywhere, splashed with a rainbow’s worth of various bloods, ungainly limbs twisted into impossible configuration and pinned by jagged bone constructs that were slowly dissolving away.

“Easy. They aren’t dead or they’d be dust,” Edge reminded him patiently. Like that was so much better. His footsteps were even, heels clicking lightly on the concrete as he walked towards another doorway with daylight pouring through a broken pane. 

Outside was a car with windows tinted almost as dark as the glossy black exterior. Edge didn’t set Rus down even to open the door, holding him close until he set Rus into the passenger seat. For a humiliating moment, Rus’s fingers refused to loosen their grip on Edge’s coat, the heavy material nearly tearing under his blunt fingertips as Edge tried and failed to draw away. Strong hands circled his bruised wrists with care, thumbs working their way coaxingly into Rus’s palms until he finally let go. Edge buckled his seat belt on for him like he was a child and then rounded the front to settle into the driver’s side. 

The car pulled away with a near silent purr, smoothly guiding them through narrow alleyways between the warehouses, out into the main street.

There were other cars on the road, driving along without a single clue that there were terrible people out in the world right now, driving right next to them. Reality was slowly settling back in, brutal and implacable, stealing away his blessed numbness. Rus kept his gaze on his hands, tracing the bruises he could see purpling on the bones, unable to keep from prodding at them even as it blossomed hurt.

“i want to go home,” Rus said, pettishly. 

Edge’s focus was on the road, both hands on the wheel at a proper ten and two. “I told you I’d take you to your brother.”

Implying that wasn’t the same place and Rus turned his head to stare at Edge mutely, then slumped back into the seat. More fine leather, great, hatefully comfortable as it cradled his aching bones. He wondered how well it would muffle the sound if he buried his face into it and started screaming.

He didn’t bother. Rus didn’t feel much like talking anymore.

* * *

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

The long ride through the city streets gave Rus a chance to gather up his scattered wits and once he got them back into the right order, he still only knew one thing for sure. He was seriously pissed off.

It was pretty obvious that this was all Edge’s fault, didn’t have to be a rocket surgeon to figure that out. Before Edge, Rus had stood at a lifetime score of zero when it came to kidnapping and after Edge started coming in, Rus was two for two with the extra bonus of their shop getting wrecked, and repaired, along the way.

Who the hell was this guy?

Flat out asking probably wasn’t gonna get him any answers and Rus settled for staring moodily out the car windows, absently noting the street signs even if they were all but meaningless to him. Rus didn’t know the city very well, that’s why he had google maps on his phone…he groaned inwardly as he realized his phone was missing. Fuck, it’d been hard enough to scrounge up the extra cash for that one. 

His bag was gone, too, and a discreet check found his wallet was also absent. Not that he thought these guys were the kind to be cleaning out his meager bank account, but it counted for aggravation if nothing else. He’d need to get a new ID, new cards, the limited cash he’d had on him was gone. It was like every time he thought he hit bottom, the universe found another way to yank the rug out from under him.

Rus slumped down, letting his skull drop against the cool window glass as he stared at the blurring scenery. 

Wait…they were passing a little corner store that Rus recognized. These streets were ones he knew. They were heading into the Dust Bowl, towards home, and Rus would have felt a lot better about it if Edge hadn’t hinted pretty clearly that Blue and home weren’t the same place right now. 

He went on to prove it by driving past the residential areas and Rus gave the route that would have set him on his own porch a longing look. What he wouldn’t give to be curled up on his own bed right now, heading into Sleepsville and if any dreams came his way, Rus was gonna stuff them back up the pipe they came from. 

Edge drove on and the silence in the car was close to unbearable. Rus wondered what Edge would do if he turned on the radio. Probably not kill him, he’d only just saved his life, but the guy was a criminal per his own lack of denial. Maiming might still be on the table and Rus really needed both of his hands for work.

The place they finally pulled up to was worse than he could have imagined. Rus stared up in horror at the glowing neon lights, so bright they were visible in the daylight, surrounding the huge LCD screen advertising their ‘services’. Places like this were exactly why Blue wanted their store in the Human shopping district. 

“are you serious? we’re going to a strip club?” Rus blurted. 

He’d never gone into any of the clubs down here in the thirties block; they were nicknamed the dirty thirties for a reason. Even if he’d been curious, which he really, really wasn’t, Blue would have murdered him if he’d put so much as a toe bone across the threshold of one of these places.

He’d been trying not to look at Edge, better to focus out the window than on the façade of a handsome face overtop whatever criminal awfulness lay beneath it. Now Rus turned to see Edge was rolling down the window, speaking in a hushed voice to another Dog Monster in a nice suit. Yeah, just like the guys from his first venture into kidnapping and Rus wasn’t any kind of Sherlock Holmes, but even he could add 1 +1 = bullshit.

Edge only glanced at him with a flick of crimson eye lights, “This is my place of business, yes.”

The Dog stepped back, and the car eased down the narrow alleyway between the buildings. Rus barely choked back a cry of surprise as Edge abruptly veered the wheel into a hairpin turn right towards the building. The brick wall loomed and then vanished into a sort of tunnel, cutting off the afternoon sunshine. An underground parking area, Rus realized, and there was no old clunker of a van with a rose on the side painstakingly painted in his brother’s hand in sight. All the cars here resembled the one he was already in, sleek and shiny, every single one of them worth more than their shop with all its blooms and their house combined. 

Edge pulled into an empty spot and shut off the engine. It only made the silence that much worse, bleak and complete. He started to turn towards Rus, hesitating when Rus flinched back helplessly, strangling on a yelp before it could be the first thing to fill the quiet.

“Easy,” Edge said, and there was a new inflection for that deep voice, one that Rus hadn’t heard before. Manners he’d gotten at the shop and this morning, anger. Today it was coaxing, almost a croon, trying to soothe him like Rus was a lost pet and something about that comparison stirred his already agitated temper. Edge reached over and Rus might’ve damn well bitten him, but he didn’t touch. His expression only darkened as his gloved fingertips hovered over the side of Rus’s face where it ached the most. He was probably bruised up, whoever nabbed him at the shop this morning had popped him a good one. 

“Easy,” Edge said again, in that same cozening voice, “you’re safe here. Let’s go inside.”

"no." Rus crossed his arms over his chest and slumped back into the leather seat, scowling down in the direction of the glove box. The front of his apron was dotted with marrow, dried to a tacky maroon against the heavy dark green fabric. Rus scratched at one of the spots, watched as it flaked away into dust, but the stain remained. Probably even Blue’s terrifyingly efficient laundry skills wouldn’t be able to get it out.

There was a beat of silence, then, "What?"

"no!” Rus said again, infusing that single word with all the irritation and fear of the day, letting it pour out as he added. “i'm not getting out of this car until you explain to me what's going on."

He glanced at Edge out of the corner of his eye, half-expecting another round of that anger from this morning. Instead, he looked nonplussed, his brow bone drawn down into a frown. Suddenly, one corner of his mouth quirked up in a crooked smile. "So. You want to sit here in my car with me, alone, is that what you're saying?"

Startled, Rus’s head jerked up and Edge’s amused gaze was suddenly closer, the much-larger skeleton leaning over the gearshift right into his space and bracing his arm against the passenger side door. His bulk seemed to fill in any room that Rus wasn’t already taking up and Rus’s back was already pressed tight against the plush cushion of the seat. There was nowhere else to go as he sputtered out, "w-what?"

This close, the heady aroma Edge’s cologne was overwhelming, enormous, and worse, there was a hint of spice paired with it, a whiff of roused magic that paired with the sudden heat of his body so close to Rus’s. The only light was whatever overhead fluorescents could make it through the tinted windows and Edge’s scarlet eye lights tracing along Rus’s bruised face again. That voice Rus found so enticing before sent a strange tingle down his spine as Edge murmured, "My enemies already think you're mine. Perhaps you should be."

What. The. Fuck.

"i don't belong to anyone!" It sounded so weak, less a denial and more a sad kind of plea, which was stupid, because Rus wasn’t one of the flowers in their shop, he wasn’t something that could be owned, thank you very much!

"No?" Edge picked up his hand, prying it gently away from where it frantically gripped the side of his seat. Where his sleeve rode up, Rus could see the shadow of bruises left earlier by the ropes and he could only stared dumbly as Edge nuzzled at those mottled blotches, a light kiss on the inside of his wrist made Rus shudder, not in revulsion, no, he couldn’t name that feeling. Edge’s grip was so gentle, more cradling than holding and Rus could have pulled away if he wanted to, broken that hold so easily. So why wasn’t he?

"no…” Rus tried to protest, strengthless and lost, “you don't even know my name."

"I don't, you're correct in that," Edge agreed. He pressed another light kiss to Rus’s wrist, nudging his sleeve further up to investigate where the bone was unmarked and pure. "But I know you. You work all day in your little shop until noon when your brother comes in to relieve you for your lunch, which you go to eat at the corner park."

That woke him out of the daze that rich voice wove around him, innocuous as a spider’s web and twice as insidious. At least with a spider, you knew what they wanted from you. “you…you've been spying on me!"

"No,” Edge denied. His breath was hot against Rus’s bare wrist, his teeth scraping lightly against the slender, delicate bones as he spoke, “We have another place of business down the road from your shop and I can see the park from my office. I see you sitting alone on the bench, eating your sandwich and feeding crumbs to the birds and squirrels. I don’t know your name, but I saw your smile when I came into your shop. I know more of you than you might think."

He moved then, with a blurring speed, his face inches from Rus’s as he said, softly, "I am a _very_ bad person, flower shop boy. If you saw my soul, you'd know that. And you…"

“please,” Rus whispered. He didn’t know what he was asking for.

His voice grew softer yet, almost a subsonic rumble. Hardly more than a breath as Rus stared up at Edge with sockets so wide, they ached. "You were a step into the sunshine out of the darkness. A fantasy that I never wanted made reality and yet, now you’re here and it is becoming very difficult to not embrace the dream. Now. Do you want to go inside, or would you rather stay here with me to discuss this further?”

The last was said with a sardonic lilt and it took a moment for Rus to realize he’d stopped talking, the former silence was overshadowed by the throb of his soul, so loud in his head Rus wondered wildly if Edge could hear it, too. 

But the spell was well and truly broken and if this were only a ploy to get him out of the car, it worked. Rus opened the passenger door so quickly he nearly slammed it into a concrete support beam, almost falling onto the pavement in his effort to scramble away.

Edge exited with better grace, his smooth gait carrying him to where Rus still wobbled on his feet. “Inside, it is,” Edge drawled, his mouth tilted into a smirk, “Do you need help?”

“i can walk on my own!” Rus wasn’t so sure he could, but he wasn’t about to let this asshole carry him again. He let Edge get a few steps between them before he followed, staying out of arm’s reach. Pointless effort, the first place Edge led him was a service elevator, where Rus was forced to stand right next to him surrounded by stark wooden paneling and glaring overhead lights. 

But when the door opened again, it was into far more lush surroundings. Ornate carpets ran down a hallway subtly lit with ornate sconces. On the left was a neutrally painted wall lined with artwork that was miles above the league of the cheap prints in their house from the thrift shop. On the right there was a row of angular glass, almost like skylights, looking down. 

The glass was tinted and if television could be believed, Rus figured it was probably one-way. He lingered back as Edge walked on, peering down. They looked down into the club below them, the stage lights dimmed through the tint. 

From this angle, Rus thought he could see the entire ground floor. The bar was furthest away, with its collection of tiny-looking bottles ready to be used by ant-sized bartenders. He could see the patrons sitting at their tables, the occasional glint of a glass as it was raised, and the stage itself with a scattering of poles. 

There were only two dancers, probably it was too early to put on any kind of real show, and they were making the most of their minuscule audience. A searing blush heated Rus’s cheekbones as he watched a scantily clad Bun slide languidly down a slim pole to her high heels, strutting over to kneel in front of one of the Humans in the audience, cupping her bared breasts as if in offering. 

“If you wanted to see the show, we could have gone in through the front door.”

Rus jerked, looking up wildly to find Edge waiting at the end of the hallway, his face unreadable. 

“how can you run a place like this?” Rus burst out. He jabbed an accusing finger at the display below them. “how can you abuse your own people for money?”

“All of our staff is fairly compensated for their work,” Edge countered, “which a more than they could say if they worked for the Humans. Now come along.”

That sounded more like an order than anything else had and Rus grudgingly obeyed. It was a shameful relief; he didn’t really want to see some guy shoving bills into a mostly-nude woman’s g-string, anyway. He hunched down, his skull low between his shoulders and followed.

The second door led to another hallway, this one completely enclosed. More expensive carpets and artwork, more intricate wall sconces that made Rus feel like he was in weird, modern version of Dracula. Except this was only like, office space above a rinky-dink strip club so why did it feel like they were walking forever?

“why did you even bring me here?” Rus grumbled, trudging along as he watched his untied shoelaces bump along the carpet. “you told me you were taking me to my brother. i want to go home.”

“I did say that and I am,” Edge agreed. Stupid how even now that voice sent a trill up his spine, why was he such an idiot, anyway? “But I’m afraid you can’t go home, not yet. Nor can you go to your shop.”

Home wasn’t entirely unexpected, all things considered, and the shop shouldn’t have been, if he’d bothered to think about it. Rus halted, dismayed, “but our store—we were supposed to get the new coolers this morning!”

“It’s been taken care of.”

“more help? great. i think we’ve had more than enough help from you!”

"You really don't have a choice. This is my fault, so I’m going to keep you safe." Said matter-of-factly, with no room left for debate or argument.

That didn’t mean Rus wasn’t going to try. "i don't want you to keep me safe! i don’t want anything to do with you or any of this...” He gestured wildly at the walls, the carpets, club that couldn’t even be seen. “this horrible place!"

Edge halted so abruptly that Rus nearly ran into his back, half-tripping over his own laces. He looked up into Edge’s stoic face defiantly, silently daring him to contradict him.

“No one talks to me like that.” But Edge wasn’t angry. It was more like he was marveling over it, almost pleased, and Rus didn’t know what that meant, he didn’t know what any of this meant. All he knew was his head ached and frustrated tears were starting to gather at the corners of his sockets, held back only be sheer determination. 

He fought to keep from squirming under that penetrating gaze and it, well, it softened, somehow, it was the only way to explain it. “Come on,” Edge said, again, and instead of leading, he silently shepherded Rus to walk next to him, a hand hovering without touching at the small of Rus’s back as a guide. 

They finally stopped outside of one of the doors that was as nondescript as any of them rest of them. Edge knocked briefly, in a weird rat-tat-tat pattern, then opened the door.

After everything, Rus still wasn’t sure what to expect and this luxurious office definitely wasn’t on his mental list. A large, ornate wooden desk dominated the room though there wasn’t a scrap of paper in sight, surrounded by leather chairs and sofas. There was a side bar with various sized bottles and a tray of clean glasses, and the walls were lined with bookshelves, filled with leather-bound volumes that had Rus mentally salivating; he could only imagine what information was in them, much better than the meager offerings of the local library. 

Better yet, Blue was sitting in an oversized leather chair, still in his work uniform and almost disappearing into the thick cushions. He struggled to his feet with a cry, running over with both arms outstretched to Rus. Who dropped to his knees, clinging to his big brother as he hadn’t since the day they came to the surface and with almost the same mix of emotions, fear and joy. 

“Brother, I was so worried!” Tears brimmed in Blue’s sockets and overflowed down his rounded cheekbones. His starry eye lights dimmed as he reached up to lightly touch the bruises on the side of Rus’s face, too gently to cause even a hint of pain. 

“i’m okay, blue, seriously,” Rus told him. But he didn’t let go, leaning into those comforting arms.

“ain’t that sweet, a family reunion.”

That made Rus jerk, turning to see a burly skeleton almost as broad was he was tall coming from around the desk. He wasn’t much taller than Blue and in his sharky grin was a glinting gold tooth. One that might shine even in the dim light in the backseat of a car. 

“Brother, this is Red,” Blue gestured towards the squat skeleton, who was lighting a cigar, “Edge’s brother. He told me what happened.”

“did he?” Rus said, as neutrally as he could manage when he was staring face-first at the skeleton who’d offered him a chance to ‘make it a double’ that morning, whatever the hell that meant. 

“yep,” Red said agreeably. His crimson eye lights glittered with dark amusement as he grinned around his cigar. “glad you’re okay, flower shop, musta been a hell of an ordeal, eh, bro?”

Edge was standing by the door, arms crossed over his broad chest. His face twisted as if he was tasting something sour and he said nothing.

Blue only nodded, mopping away his tears with a clean hankie, “When I got to the shop and it wasn’t open, I was so afraid, brother! I had no idea that there was any,” he lowered his voice as if he might be overheard by someone nefarious, never suspecting that the bad guys were already in the room, “gang activity in our area and I’ve no idea why they would target us, but Red assured me they can help us handle it.”

“and fer a very reasonable fee,” Red added with mocking cheer.

“A fee!” Rus spluttered, “but all this is—” _Their fault_ , Rus couldn’t say, not when Blue began scolding.

“Now, brother, I understand how you feel, but honestly, it’s not fair to expect them to help us for free. They’re businessmen and they can’t simply offer charity,” Blue lowered his voice, whispering, “and if we have their help, then I won’t have to worry about you.” He turned to Edge then and said with trembling gratitude, “Thank you, for bringing him back to me.”

“You’re welcome,” Edge said gravely, and Rus seethed inwardly even as there came another knock at the door, that same rat-ta-tat as before. Edge cracked it open to reveal another Dog, this time in what looked like a butler’s uniform, like he’d stepped right out of the movie ‘Clue’ after taking tips from Tim Curry. “Please, show our guests to their room. They’ll be staying with us for a few days.”

The Dog nodded, waiting as Blue offered more profuse thank you’s for them ‘saving’ him and if Blue thought anything of Red’s wide grin and Edge’s calm silence, it didn’t show. He followed the Dog and Rus started to trail behind him.

“Wait.” A hand on his arm made Rus pause and he looked up at Edge, biting back what he wanted to say even as he looked uncomprehendingly at the thin black rectangle that suddenly appeared between Edge’s fingers. “Here.”

It was his missing phone. Rus snatched it away, powering it on and he couldn’t help but notice the wifi was already connected. Like someone had bypassed his password and took a peek, sonuva _bitch._

Blue was looking at him expectantly and Rus muttered, “thank you,’ before hastily escaping out the door. 

The room they were led to was almost as big as their entire house. There was a wide bed topped with down-filled pillows and a heavy duvet, surrounded by curtains that were pointless in a room with no windows. On the other side of the room was a sitting area with a wide sofa and on the coffee table there were a couple of trays with domed covers that could only be dinner. A shame Rus didn’t think he’d feel like eating for about a decade or so. A disinterested poke at the remote on the side table opened a panel to show a large television screen that Rus didn’t bother to turn on.

What a weird place, the inside seemed bigger than the out, like an evil Tardis or something. 

Rus flopped down on the bed without even stripping off his apron, toeing off his sneakers to let them plop down to the floor. That Blue didn’t scold him for making mess was a pretty good tell of his mood. Instead, Blue boosted himself up onto the mattress, crawling across the wide expanse to sit next to Rus and his hand was gentle as he smoothed it over Rus’s skull. Rus let him, didn’t draw away as he considered what he wanted to say. 

“blue,” Rus hesitated, and said carefully, “i don’t know if getting involved with these guys is such a good idea.”

His brother surprised him, admitting, “I’m not sure, either. But they said they can help us,” Blue offered him a tremulous smile. “Business has been a little on the slow side and we lost that money to that horrible thief we hired. Red told me they can help support us until we get the insurance money. Things will be better, then, I’m sure of it.”

Rus closed his sockets tightly, swallowing down any other objections, because he knew that tone. Things had been tough lately, he knew that, but his brother’s false cheer told a clear story that Blue hadn’t been updating him like he should’ve. If they didn’t go along with this, they’d lose everything. 

They didn’t have a choice.

“sure, bro,” Rus tried to force some enthusiasm into it, wasn’t sure if he succeeded. He gave it about a fifty-fifty shot.

“You must be exhausted,” Blue said, still petting his skull, “You don’t need to talk about what happened right now, let me heal that for you and then you can get some rest.” Fiercely, he added, “It will be all right, brother, you’ll see!”

That soothing, familiar touch drifted down his bruised cheekbone, fingertips going warm as Blue pushed healing into the injured bone. Getting healed always made Rus sleepy and he drifted off before his brother could finish, basking in his Blue’s gentle affection and care.

When he woke, the room was dark and Blue was asleep beside him, the bed so large they didn’t touch even with their arms outstretched. He fumbled for his phone, squinting at the too-bright screen that told him it was after midnight. As late as it was and as exhausted as he was, he still couldn’t fall back asleep, his weary thoughts tumbling over and over themselves, an endless thumping dryer inside his mind.

They’d be staying for a few days, Edge said. Days of the shop being closed, days of the flowers not being properly tended, stock lost along with missing out on deliveries, walk-in purchases, any sales at all. Blue said Red offered to help but, what if that was all for show? They could lose the shop and if they did, the house would be next. Everything they’d worked so hard for. 

This was all Edge’s fault, yeah, sure, and Rus still didn’t know exactly why, but it was the truth. A truth that didn’t even matter because lying here fuming about it wasn’t helping. What he needed to do was make sure Edge forced his brother to keep his promises to help them and Rus wasn’t sure how. It wasn’t like he had anything to barter, even the shop was technically in Blue’s name. 

Except. There was one thing Rus knew that Edge wanted. Oh, he’d tried to deny it this morning and then went the complete opposite way this afternoon, but Rus was pretty sure he understood what was up with that. A failed attempt to protect him from…whoever, at this point Rus should probably start a list…and beneath that was the truth. 

Edge wanted him, that much Rus knew and maybe if he…if Rus gave it to him. Maybe if he offered to give Edge whatever he wanted, they could be sure their shop was safe.

Lying in the wide, unfamiliar bed, Rus swallowed hard. In his daydreams, he’d been eager for something like this, tumbling into bed with his tall, mysterious stranger and even now that Rus knew the truth, a faint warmth throbbed once between his legs at the thought. 

His soul was less certain, shrinking back in his rib cage. Rus ignored it, slipping out from between the sheets. All he had to do was offer and endure, who knew, he might even like it. Didn’t matter if he did. If it kept their shop open, Rus would do whatever it took. 

It was worth a shot.

* * *

tbc


	5. Interlude: Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So where was Blue while Rus was off getting kidnapped and how did he end up with Red, anyway?

* * *

It was barely afternoon and Blue was already tired. He’d spent the morning coaxing a variety of flowers in their garden into bloom, gently forcing them to quickly travel through their growth cycles until they were ready to be cut and added to a bouquet. 

Normally, their garden had a rigid schedule to keep from pushing the plants too much; stimulated growth could only go so far, after all. But losing most of their stock was forcing Blue to abandon it. Using so much magic in such a short amount of time was exhausting and when Blue parked in their assigned spot, the elderly van wheezing to a stop, he took a moment to sit in the sagging driver’s seat, ignoring the spring pushing through the cheap vinyl to poke at his coccyx as he closed his sockets for just a moment.

There really wasn’t time for a rest. Papy was waiting on these flowers, likely working hard since this morning readying the baskets for Blue’s delivery. There were funerary floral arrangements to be made, birthday gifts, romantic gestures, and every one of them added desperately needed profits back into their coffers. 

Rest would have to wait. Instead, Blue pawed through the glove box, past the yellowed owner’s manual and an odd collection of fast food napkins to find a granola bar in its depths. Tastelessly stale, the chocolate chips cast in a white haze and Blue ate it anyway, chewing without tasting. It would help revive his magic and he’d be able to paste on his sunniest smile for Papyrus when he got inside. 

His little brother was working so terribly hard, so many long hours on his own. Blue’s soul was so tight with pride, it felt as if it were ready to explode and shower his Papy with it, even as he kept the underling guilt hidden away, tucked back where his brother wouldn’t have to deal with it. 

This was his fault. Papy shouldn’t have to deal with the brunt of the stress. He’d abandoned his own faint hopes for college to help Blue with the business, worked hard without a fuss. He learned to make flower arrangements from bouquets to corsages, how to run the registers, how to smile and charm their customers into buying more than they intended. This was Blue’s dream, not his, but he’d thrown himself in entirely, and Blue didn’t want him to know about the bills rubberstamped in red ‘past due’ ink. He didn’t want Papy to worry about their dwindling savings. 

The insurance money would help, quite a bit if the representative he spoke to yesterday was correct, and they only needed to last the few weeks until it came.

A little hard work hadn’t dusted him yet, Blue told himself as he got out of the van and retrieved the first heavy bucket of cut flowers; lilies, for the funeral arrangements. A few weeks more wasn’t going to do any harm. 

When he got to the shop door, for a moment Blue didn’t understand why it wouldn’t push open. Then he realized the open sign was off, the door was locked tight. The shop was closed, on a Friday afternoon when all the lovesick swains got their paychecks and were ready to pick up flowers in hopes of a romantic weekend and they’d be purchasing their bouquets elsewhere because his shop was closed. 

Later, Blue would be ashamed his first instinct was largely irritated; had his silly brother forgotten to leave the door open for customers, they did have _some_ stock! But that was not for more than a startled second, long enough for him to see the broken mug scattered across the stoop. 

He leaned down to pick up a shard of the plastic, absently noting the tremble in his hand. It had been his brother’s favorite travel mug, a silly thing he’d gotten it at the thrift shop, leftover from some Halloween or another. The skeletons that danced around it would dance no more, the piece Blue held had lost its legs, and he took very little comfort in the fact there was no dust on the broken pieces because there was a single splotch of redness, a near-perfect circle of dried marrow. 

Someone had hurt his brother, Humans, perhaps the same ones from yesterday and how had he ever believed in his naiveté that Humans would welcome them to the surface with open arms.

“now thems some pretty flowers you got there.”

Startled, Blue turned towards that voice, ready to tell them with as much forced politeness as he could muster that they were currently closed, and would the police even come if he called them, would they even care, who else could he possibly—

Then he caught sight of who spoke, and his soul felt as if it froze right in his rib cage, icy fingers digging in and oh, his little brother was in far worse trouble than Blue could have ever guessed.

He’d never met the Fells, neither on the Surface or below it. The Underground was a big place and the madscrabble life they’d grown accustomed to in Ebott did not lend itself to making new acquaintances. Not that Blue frequented the sorts of places where one might meet the Fells. No, he’d never met them, but he knew them by reputation. Thugs, whispered along the gossip-line, loan sharks, racketeers, even murderers said the quietest rumors, though not for very long. 

This one could only be the older brother, Red. He stood only a bit taller than Blue and nearly twice as broad, with little resemblance past the fact they were both skeleton Monsters. His teeth curved into a jagged, shark grin, unlike Blue’s blunted smile and his eye lights were the burning crimson of an ember. His dark expensive suit with its rich scarlet shirt boasted of handsewn silks, and the fingers holding his cigar were circled with gold rings whose stones were too garishly large to be anything but real. His other hand was tucked into his pocket, oddly threatening for its nonchalance. Flanking him were two large Dog monsters, white on white ties and shirts, and Blue was suddenly struck by the absurdity of it all. 

His little flower shop along with his brother had somehow been transported into some ridiculous Godfather-esque alternate, only proved by Red exhaling a billowing cloud of smoke as he said, “but it looks t’me like you’ve got a lil’ trouble bloomin’. lose somethin’? or mebbe someone.”

Inappropriate laughter bubble up, choked away, and Blue heard himself say, “I suppose I did.”

Red nodded as if Blue had offered not a stream of wisdom, but an entire glistening fountain. He started pulling his hand out of his pocket and Blue tensed, angel-only knew what thoughts about guns or knives shooting through his mind. But that hand was empty and Red only plucked one of the lilies from the bucket, running a razor-tipped finger along the satiny petals. 

“Are you here to help with that? My…my missing person?” Blue asked at last. Not that he wanted to, he didn’t, but his options were few, any choices dwindled away. There was no one else to ask and with every second that went by, the danger his brother was in could only be growing. This had something to do with yesterday, Blue was sure of it, and he couldn’t even imagine what sort of trouble his sweet, funny brother had gotten into to cause all this. 

Rumor had it Red never broke his word, though he had a twisted way of keeping it, a monkey’s paw wish. But for his brother, Blue would have bargained with the devil incarnate. 

He wondered if he was. 

“could be,” Red said idly. He twirled the flower stem between his fingers. “you got quite the green thumb, dontcha.” 

“Yes?” Blue agreed, warily. He’d heard that before when they’d first come to the Surface, and his refusal to grow drugs had been a costly one, losing him possible allies. He wondered dismally what conundrum he was about to be balanced on for his brother’s safety. 

“hm.” Red gave the lily a considering sniff, “might have to see if we can drive your posy sales a lil’ better, after we get past this oopsie daisy.” 

Blue didn’t know what that meant but he was sure he wouldn’t like it. 

“tell ya what,” Red gave him a conspiratorial wink and a finger gun, as if they were close pals and not a known criminal chatting with a simple florist, “me and the neighborhood watchdogs here, we’ll take care of it. you hang tight and we’ll get your bro back to you.”

Blue didn’t ask how they knew it was his brother. He didn’t ask a thing. He simply crossed his arms over his chest and said, “No, I don’t think so. I’m coming with you.”

That earned him a deep frown, “baby blue, i think mebbe you didn’t hear me so good.”

“I heard you perfectly well,” Blue told him and didn’t bother with any astonishment over what this…this person might know or not know about him. Nicknames and whatnot were not important. Papy was. “And I don’t care. I’m coming with you and I’m staying until I see my brother.”

A low growl came from one of the Dogs, silenced instantly when Red held out a hand. Those jagged teeth curved into an unpleasantly wide grin, “you think so, eh. and if i say no?”

It was not particularly difficult to work up some tears, they’d been hovering thickly beneath the surface the moment Blue found that broken coffee mug. He let them loose now, wailing as loudly as he could, “How can you leave me like this!” Fat droplets rolled down his cheeks, huge sobs gasped out, “and with a baby on the way?”

Red froze, his cigar drooping in his teeth as his grin fell away so abruptly Blue half-expected it to shatter on the stoop with the remains of Papy’s coffee mug. All around them the people on the sidewalk who’d been previously been looking discreetly away were abruptly watching with avid interest, aghast and greedily outraged as Blue wept loudly, one hand pressed against his apron to his belly over their nonexistent child. A few people were shuffling their feet as if considering playing the hero, weighing their odds against a cruel wealthy ex-boyfriend and his friends casting aside a tiny pregnant clerk. 

“get in the fucking car,” Red muttered. He tossed the lily on the ground, trodding on it as he turned to do the same. Blue tried not to see the mangled flower as a metaphor and followed, hopping through the open door that one of the Dogs closed firmly behind him. 

He settled into the enormous leather seat, buckling his seatbelt to at least make it more difficult if Red decided it might well be easier to simply shove him out of the car on the next block. 

Not that Red seemed to be considering it. He was rummaging through a small bar installed in the side door, pouring a finger’s worth of what was probably very expensive whiskey into a crystal glass, knocking it back in a single gulp. He poured another then settled back in his seat with it, crimson eye lights targeting Blue. 

“you got some balls, kid,” he grumbled. It almost sounded grudgingly admiring but there wasn’t time to worry about that. 

“Can you promise me you’ll get my brother back to me? Safe and sound,” Blue hastened to add.

“sure, toots. we’ll get your bro back in mostly one piece,” Red said. He grinned again, all jaggedly sharp teeth as Blue’s gorge rose, purring out, “nah, he’ll be all safe and sound. got someone on it right now, and not one of the usual mutts, neither. he’ll get your bro. meantime, we got some things we can discuss, you and me.”

Blue lifted his chin defiantly. He’d known what he was getting into. If there was a price to be paid for saving his brother, Blue would offer his own soul on a silver platter. But there was no reason for Papy to know. “I’m sure we do, so long as it’s a private discussion between us.”

Those crimson eye lights gleamed and Blue could very nearly hear the invisible chains of fate closing around him. “good boy. now, let’s talk about you, baby blue. how’s business?”

-fin


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much everyone for your interest and your comments! I really want to reply to them all but as people from twitter know, my family is down sick, including me, so my options for the energy I had were to either reply or write more and alas, I chose writing. I will reply when I get to feeling better!

* * *

Rus was careful not to wake his brother as he slipped out of the bed. If Blue caught him leaving, he’d have all kinds of questions about where Rus thought he was going and probably a good scolding about sneaking around being rude to their ‘hosts’.

Better to avoid all that and not get caught, though from Blue’s soft snoring, that probably wasn’t going to be too hard. The only light in the room was from Rus’s cell phone and even in the dimness, Blue looked exhausted. His brother pushed himself so hard, Rus thought with a pang, working in the gardens in the morning, then doing deliveries throughout the day, only to head home for dinner and housework at night. If there was one thing to be begrudgingly grateful for this strange, unexpected vacation, it was the faintest definition of a silver lining in that at least Blue would get some rest.

Maybe if Rus could make a de…if he could…if he spoke with Edge, he could be sure of his brother getting enough sleep for at least a little longer. Blue gave up so much for him, always, struggling to make a good life for them here on the Surface. If he had the chance to make things better, Rus needed to at least try.

But his quest was already having issues from his first barefooted step out of the bed. A hasty search of the room didn’t undercover his clothes and all Rus was wearing was a loose nightshirt. It was much too large, long enough that it nearly fell to his knees and the satiny material kept slipping off one shoulder or the other, resisting his attempts to yank it back up. He hardly remembered putting it on, flushed to recall his brother helping him dress as he hadn’t done since Rus was a babybones.

He vaguely recalled there were pants to go with the shirt. They were nowhere to be found and Rus had to stifle a nervous chuckle to think of Blue possibly wearing them. If they were long on Rus, Blue would be positively swimming in them to oceanic depths, the cuffs rolled until it looked as if he’d sewn pillows to the ankles.

Well, if there wasn’t anything else for him to wear, the nightshirt would have to do, he was certainly covered enough. 

He half-expected the door to be locked but the knob twisted easily beneath his hand, letting in a stream of light from the hall as Rus hastily went out before it could wake his brother. He glanced down the hallway and found it empty of everything but the same wall sconces and artwork as before, along with the occasional door. Edge was behind one of them and probably so was Red, along with any number of other people, hm, this was a kink in his plan that Rus hadn’t considered. 

Talking to Edge was the main course but he still needed to deal with the appetizer, which was finding him. He was probably still awake, it stood to reason that someone whose business was a strip club probably wasn’t asleep at this hour, and they hadn’t been specifically told they couldn’t leave the room, though it’d sort of been heavily implied. 

Maybe he was in that office they’d been in before and Rus turned the other way, trying to remember the route they’d taken earlier, and nearly ran headfirst into the Dog who was silently standing guard on the opposite side of the door. 

They only looked at him silently, their paws clasped in front of them, and as Rus stared back at them with wide sockets, they raised one furry brow questioningly. 

Rus supposed telling them to sit and stay would be terrifically rude.

“um,” Rus swallowed hard, stammering out, “i…i was looking for edge. would you…maybe…know where he is?”

The Dog said nothing, still staring at Rus unblinkingly and Rus was about to abandon his plan and head back into their room –honestly what had he even been thinking— when the Dog tilted his head to the side, one hand rising to a floppy ear where a curly sort of wire was trailing out. Then he turning to walk down the hallway, pausing only to jerk his head for Rus to follow. 

Well, now he had a guide, of sorts, that was good. Maybe.

This whole place was like some sort of maze and much as he tried to keep track of all the rights and lefts, Rus didn’t have his brother’s mind for puzzles. By the time they got to another door, Rus was thoroughly lost and couldn’t have gotten back to his brother without a damned map and a compass. 

“is edge in here?” Rus asked. The Dog said nothing, only stood waiting expectantly for him to go in. Well, he’d asked for this, hadn’t he, and Rus took a deep breath, reaching out to turn the knob. 

Peering in revealed a room that was nothing like Rus expected. More expensive furniture like the office earlier, but the lighting in this room was muted and soft, coming mostly from the electric fireplace in one corner. Guess there was a limit to what even money could buy, and a real fireplace buried into the depths of a building was one of them. In front of it was a bearskin rug that would have left Rus flinching if it weren’t so obviously a fake. Knowing a few Bears personally, he could barely abide such a horrible thing that even hinted about such an atrocity. 

He looked away, taking in the plushly cushioned sofas with oversized pillows, the little cart holding what looked like a well-appointed miniature bar. In the corner was a grand piano and that was where Edge was sitting, his back to the door and one hand hanging off the end of the keyboard with a half-filled glass held loosely in his fingers.

Rus crept further into the room, his bare feet whispering against the rug. Very softly, he called, “edge?”

Edge didn’t look up. He didn’t seem at all surprised by the visit and he didn’t turn around, only said quietly, “You should be sleeping.”

That didn’t seem worthy of a reply, Edge hardly seemed the type to be playing the scolding parent and that was true even before Rus knew what he truly was. He gave his sleeve a nervous tug, the material slippery between his bony fingers. Rus hadn’t been able to see the color of his shirt in the darkness of the bedroom but here, he could see the heavy silk was a rich shade of red, deepened to the color of rubies in the dimness. The answer was obvious, but Rus asked the question anyway, “do i have you to thank for the pajamas?”

Edge gave him a faint smile, looking over his shoulder to let his gaze trail over Rus. His eye lights were nearly the same deep shade. “I’m afraid I didn’t have a chance to shop for anything more suitable.” He took a sip of his drink, sockets hooded as he studied Rus. “That color looks good on you.”

In his color, right, the same shade Edge always seemed to wear. Rus wasn’t sure what to say to that, either to the implication or the compliment. It wasn’t like any Monsters were beating down his door for a date before he’d gotten wrapped up in working at the store, but the way Edge was looked at him made him want to squirm and blush. Like he was something lovely, another pretty flower for their shop.

Well. He’d said that maybe he should own Rus or something like that, Rus was no philosopher to interpret everything Edge said to him in the car, but that _was_ the point of all this, wasn’t it? His very soul felt like it was quivering as Rus took another step closer and the piano bench creaked as Edge shifted his weight, turning to face him fully.

“You should still be in bed,” Edge reminded him. The way his smoky voice curled around those syllables sent another shiver up Rus’s spine. This wouldn’t be so bad, Rus told himself, hadn’t he daydreamed something very much like this, once? Alone in a room with Edge, ready to sink into his embrace, and if his fantasies weren’t quite like this, at least it was something.

“so should you," Rus countered, "do you want me to leave?” If Edge hadn’t wanted to be disturbed, Rus very much doubted the Dog would have brought him here. 

A deeper smile quirked one side of Edge’s mouth and Rus noticed suddenly that he always smiled on the side of his skull that wasn’t cracked. Maybe the pull of bone hurt if he smiled and Rus wondered why it hadn’t been properly healed, if it even could be.

“I couldn’t sleep after arguing with my brother,” Edge said, and maybe Rus didn’t know the specifics, but he had a pretty good idea what they’d squabbled about and it probably wasn’t the flower shop. Edge turned the glass in his hand as if studying the design, a stylized ‘F’ cut into the crystal. “My brother doesn’t believe in mixing business with pleasure. It’s gotten him into trouble before.”

Rus considered that, recalling his less than pleasant first chat with Red in the backseat of that car. “am i more business or pleasure?”

“That remains to be seen.” Edge shifted on the bench, setting his drink on the piano lid as he moving to one end. “Come on, sit.”

It was more offer than order and Rus did, sitting where Edge patted next to him, tucking his nightshirt primly around his knees. He looked at the piano curiously; he’d never been this close to a real one, only ever toyed with a shoddily repaired electronic one from the dump as a child. Lightly, he touched the cool keys without pressing them. “do you play?”

It seemed appropriate to ask. He knew next to nothing about Edge other than the few rather terrifying revelations of the day. They’d barely spoken before, well, everything; aside from Rus’s one attempt to ask him to dinner, there was only the meaninglessly polite retail conversation that Rus had with nearly everyone, and then once all this mess started there was nothing but their tangled meetings after. Conversation hadn’t been primary in any of it. 

“Not really,” Edge admitted, “an old friend of mine did.” He’d taken his gloves off, Rus saw, his phalanges showing old fractures and pits, an ugly contrast to how the crack in his skull only seemed to enhance his startlingly handsome face. Edge ran those scarred fingers down the keys, a dissonant chord coupled with bone clicking against ivories. “I suppose I bought this out of nostalgia.”

To think of having the money to buy a piano out of sentiment, when Rus once spent a week eating nothing but ramen noodles with butter sandwiches. Maybe better not to think of that and Rus pressed a key too hard, suddenly loud in the quiet. “all i can play is chopsticks.”

Edge made a sound like a muted chuckle, lightly tapped out the notes, the simple melody echoing through the room. When Rus reached up to do the same, his oversized sleeve slipped down to reveal the bruises still circling his wrist, irregular blotches of darkness. Edge noticed as well, his smile slipping away, and Rus hastily tugged his sleeve back up to hide them. 

Well, he was quite the seducer, wasn’t he, showing off bruises and stilted conversation, and worse. His timing was awful as his seduction and yet Rus couldn’t help asking, “who was that, this afternoon? the fire monster, i mean.”

Edge picked up his glass again, swirling the drink in his hand. He watched the deep brown vortex with shadowed eye lights, “Another old friend.”

The more they talked, the more Rus thought that he and Edge had very different opinions on the definition of friend. “he didn’t seem very friendly.”

“No. He wouldn’t be,” Edge lifted the glass, swallowed down the entire contents in one gulp and set it back down with a rude clatter, “My brother betrayed him,” Simple and matter of fact. “That’s the truth.”

Except even Rus knew that wasn’t all, couldn’t possibly be that blunt of an instrument, “that’s not all the truth.”

“No, it isn’t,” Edge admitted. He’d taken off his jacket at some point and even without it, his shoulders were impressively broad as he hunched them in a noncommittal shrug, “It was a bad situation. My brother had a choice to make, either me or his lover and he chose me. Blaze lived but he was understandably upset at my brother’s choice.”

Understandably upset with Red, yeah, Rus suspected there were plenty of others who suffered from the same affliction. “what does that have to do with me?”

“Not a thing,” Edge said. He closed his sockets, his fingers tripping tunelessly over the piano keys. “It doesn’t really have anything to do with either of us. It’s about my brother, really. Blaze has developed something of a compulsion to make sure both of us die with each other as our only company. I suppose he thinks that if I was my brother’s choice, then he needs to stick with it.”

“that doesn’t make sense, you were only buying flowers in my shop. we weren’t,” Rus flapped an impatient hand, searching for words, “company or a relationship or any of those things. so, what, he decided to punish me for the terrible sin of being a clerk?”

That lopsided grin was somehow harder now, bitter, “If you’re asking me to clarify his motives, you’re in for a sad disappointment.”

Rus sighed. That, at least, was honest enough. “i don’t know if i can judge the situation without knowing exactly what happened, but it doesn’t sound like it was entirely your brother’s fault. how can anyone make that choice?” He couldn’t even imagine trying to choose anyone over his own brother.

Edge only shrugged again. “Fault doesn’t come into it. Eventually one of them will kill the other and that’ll be the end of it.”

“will it?” Rus asked doubtfully. Edge sounded terribly nonchalant about it and Rus could only wonder how much truth was in it. One of them would kill the other, yeah, sure, with plenty of collateral damage in between, people like Edge. Or Rus.

He shivered, chilled suddenly not to the bone, but to his soul.

Edge noticed and frowned. "Are you cold?"

That sounded like an opening if he’d ever heard one. He’d gotten far off the path of his original intentions and that seemed like a shortcut back. His nightshirt was already slithering its stubborn way down again and it hardly took a twitch to send it sliding off one shoulder, leaving Rus bared to the collarbone. His voice was hardly the marvel of Edge’s, but he was rather proud of the throaty way he managed to say, "if i say yes, will you keep me warm?"

Surprise flared in those crimson eye lights, tempered with a surge of heat, and Rus didn’t struggle as Edge slid an arm around him, tugging Rus into his lap to hold him in a loose embrace. His breath was warm against the side of Rus’s skull as he leaned in and murmured, “Why are you here, flower shop?”

“because you sort of completed a kidnapping trifecta and brought me here?”

That got him the white slash of a sharp grin, “True.” Then, more insistently, “But why are you here instead of sleeping?”

“i…” Rus swallowed hard. It was one thing to plan all this, to decide to go with a seduction in order to beg favors, another entirely to admit it into the air between them. There was nothing deliberate about his hoarseness as Rus admitted, “i’m not sure.”

A scarred finger slipped under his chin, tilting up his head and Rus looked into Edge’s eye lights, watched as they studied his face intently. 

“Let me help you decide.” A soft, sweet kiss brushed his mouth, gently enticing, and when Rus moaned shakily, parting his teeth, Edge deepened it. He smelled strongly of the alcohol he’d been drinking, tasted of it, the flavor shared potent and smoky on Rus’s tongue. 

He’d been in Edge’s arms a few times now but never while in a position to appreciate it. The only danger now was in the embrace itself; Edge was so much larger that Rus was engulfed, pressed to a broad rib cage while strong arms held him close.

Rus was taller than most Humans and Edge still towered over him. It wasn’t simply his size, his presence was huge, intimidating, Edge’s hands were nearly large enough to circle his rib cage, powerful enough to move him without a hint of strain as he shifted Rus until he was straddling his lap, femurs spread wide on either side of his hips. He was already hard, Rus could feel it through his trousers and he was no virgin but his few times playing around with Muffet hadn’t prepare him for this.

He wasn’t braced for the kiss to change, not the faint, wistful touch of mouths that started this, but suddenly almost rough, a charged scrape of teeth and tongue laying claim to him. 

Rus barely stifled a yelp as Edge abruptly picked him up, the legs of the bench scraping the floor as it was shoved back. Both strong arms braced under Rus’s pelvis as Edge carried him towards the fireplace. He lowered Rus to the rug in front of it before joining him, nudging his legs apart to settle on top of him and roughly claimed his mouth again. The fake fur was ticklish against his bare bones, rubbing rawly against his femurs where the nightshirt rode up, pushed even further by Edge’s hand sliding along the long, smooth bone to cup his bared hip, his thumb skirting along the curve of his pelvis.

His weight pushed Rus into the rug, the breadth of his body spreading Rus’s legs almost uncomfortably wide, and he struggled not to wince from either the force of those kisses, hungry and eager, and the nudging hardness pressing insistently against his pelvis as if already seeking entrance.

In a distant part of his mind, Rus supposed wildly that it should be almost romantic, shouldn’t it. Making love in front of a blazing fireplace was the pinnacle of those novels Blue kept hidden under his bed, the ones Rus snuck away to read during the slow hours at the shop. Nothing was better than two lovers sprawled together like this, their passion as fiery as the flames. 

Except none of this was real, not anymore than those novels were. Not the fire, not the fur underneath him, not the supposed romance of it. This whole place was a shiny veneer layered over filth, false elegance plunked atop the strip club that supported it. 

Edge wanted his body and Rus would let him have it, and much as he tried to pretend it was something else, he couldn’t. He could only cling to Edge’s broad shoulders and try to meet that fierce kiss with his own, ignoring the smoldering regret inside him, a hotter burn than any fireplace. 

But he hadn’t expected Edge to stop. Didn’t know what to make of him drawing away, couldn’t think of what the frown creasing his scarred face meant. His bare fingers trembled as they reached out and Rus tried not to flinch as the sharpened tips wiped gently along his still faintly bruised cheekbone. He stared uncomprehendingly as they came away damp, glimmering wetness against Edge’s fingertips.

Oh. He was crying. That didn't matter, he told himself, he was trying to make a deal here, but Edge resisted his attempts to pull him back down. He crawled backwards, moving off Rus to kneel on the floor at his feet. With two fingers he reached out to gingerly tug Rus’s nightshirt back down, covering him without so much as grazing any exposed bone.

“wait, don’t,” Rus tried to reach out, to tug him back into his arms. Only Edge flinched from him, incongruous and wrong, he scrambled away as if he were the one afraid. 

“Go back to your room,” Edge said curtly.

“but—”

“Go.” And this time it was an order, sharply said.

“i can’t let my brother lose everything we’ve worked for!” He didn’t mean to say the words so bluntly, saw the flicker in Edge’s eye lights, his expression hardening. He turned away, giving Rus his back as he walked over to the cart with its whiskey bottles and glasses. 

There was a glug of liquid pouring and Edge tossed back the shot, pouring another before he spoke again, harshly.

“I have plenty of whores around me, I hardly need another.” Said like that made Rus flinch, curling into himself in desperate shame. That wasn’t…it wasn’t like _that_ , was it? Except it seemed it was, he’d been trying to barter with his body, what else could it be called? Edge went on, his voice cold, “You don’t need to sell yourself, my brother keeps his promises.”

“please. i didn’t mean to—” The tears were coming harder now, defying his attempts to stifle them and Rus choked on a sob, thick and sour in his throat. 

Almost, Edge turned towards him, his face cast in flickering shadows as he closed his sockets, exhaling long and slow. “As much as I appreciate your tendency to argue, this is not the time.” His teeth clenched in a brief grimace then he snapped out, “Get out of here! Go!”

Rus scrambled to his feet and fled. He’d barely closed the door behind him when he heard a loud thunk followed by glass shattering on the other side. He watched dumbly as dark liquid seeped from beneath the door, filling the air with the strong scent of whiskey. 

Well, that…that hadn’t gone anything like he’d hoped. 

He turned to see the Dog was still there, his expression unreadable, and when he started walking, Rus numbly followed along. Back through the twists and turns to his room and Rus went back inside without a single word, slipped back into the bed between sheets cooled by his absence. 

“Brother?” Blue shifted next to him, yawning out sleepily, “Where did you go?”

“nowhere.” Blue made a curious sound, but he wasn’t truly awake, only sinking back into his quiet snoring.

Rus curled around his pillow, too-soft and squashing beneath his grip, and stared into the darkness. His mouth ached a bit and Rus reached up, pressing his fingers to that ache, torn between remembering those rough kisses and trying to never think of them again.

He didn’t sleep for a long time.

* * *

tbc


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

It felt like he’d hardly slept at all when Blue shook him awake. Rus floundered in the tangled sheets, struggling to sit up as he blinked in confusion at the unfamiliar room. Then everything came back in a rush and Rus very nearly dove back beneath the blankets, the better to hide from his own stupidity. Might have even made it if Blue hadn’t exclaimed in surprise, catching him up in his short, sturdy arms.

“Easy, little brother,” Blue crooned. He petted Rus’s skull, fingers moving in soothing, gentle pats. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“it’s okay,” Rus croaked out and he gave in to the childish urge to lean into his brother’s embrace, taking the comfort he freely offered. “just a little jumpy, i guess.”

Blue held on a few moments longer before easing away, “I should have let you sleep,” he fretted. “after everything that happened, you need your rest, you didn’t even stir when the butler knocked on the door, I should have—”

“bro, i’m fine,” Rus interrupted, “you just startled me.” He proved it by squirming free of the blankets and climbing out of the bed to his feet, and if he was a little wobbly, eh, he caught his balance quickly enough. He was about to escape to the bathroom to shower, a combo guaranteed to put off conversation and let him wake up a little more, when he saw the new addition to their room of a neatly folded stack of clothes on the little coffee table by the sofa. A look at his brother confirmed he was already dressed in a pair of trousers and a fine shirt, the lovely floral pattern shades of blue and yellow to match his starry eye lights. 

He looked charmingly handsome and that was not an outfit that had ever been in his brother’s closet. 

“that’s a different look for you, bro,” Rus said warily.

“Yes, well.” Blue smoothed a hand down the front of his shirt, fingering the pearl buttons. “We’ve been invited to breakfast with our hosts,” Blue said brightly. “That’s the only reason I wanted to wake you up. They’re expecting us in a half an hour, and I wanted to give you time to get ready.”

Time to get ready? An entire half an hour to prepare himself to see Edge after last night’s catastrophe. Something of his dismay must’ve shown on his face and Blue’s overbright cheer faltered, his expression torn. Probably caught between the worry of insulting their ‘hosts’ and Rus’s state of mind. 

Yeah, right now his state of mind was up for reelection. A hysterical laugh tried to bubble out of his throat as Rus backed away, feebly disguised as a cough. “no prob, bro, i’ll be fast in the shower.”

He didn’t give Blue a chance to say anything else, like maybe try to send him back to bed with an offer to make excuses for Rus’s absence. Didn’t he have enough to worry about right now without fretting that his little bro was going to embarrass him in front of their new…what? Business partner? Seemed like a good a title as any and Rus snatched up the pile of clothes without even looking at it and darted into the shower, closing and locking the door behind him. 

The bathroom gave him a pause, jarring him from his creeping panic. All gleaming fixtures and shining porcelain tiles, with a row of soaps and gels sitting invitingly on the back of the counter. A peek in one of the drawers revealed plenty of other toiletries, including several unopened toothbrushes. The shower cubical was even better, instead of one shower head, the massive stall was lined with several coming from all angles, ready to hose down whoever dared step inside. The walls were beaded with water, probably from Blue using it and Rus stifled a giggle to think of his rather petite brother using it, trying not to get washed away like a paper boat in a hurricane. 

Was there anything in this place that wasn’t turned up to eleven?

Rus set down the stack of clothes on the counter and snagged a toothbrush along with the shower gel that smelled the least offensive. The nightshirt he stripped off and tossed into a handy hamper, he’d sleep bare ass tonight if he had to, rather than wear that piece of failure again. He fiddled with the knobs until he figured out how to get to the hot water, then stepped in, letting the liquid bliss pour down on him and guiltily basking in the seemingly endless fall of hot water that their rickety old water heater couldn’t have come close to. 

He probably could’ve stayed an hour without the chill chasing him out, but he’d promised his brother to be quick. So he stripped the plastic off the toothbrush, scrubbing at his pearly whites and using the shower as an impromptu water pick, then switching over to the bath poof and shower gel, determinedly scrubbing every nook and cranny, all the way down to his toe joints. It was just a shame that getting clean didn’t take up nearly as much of his thought process as he needed to keep his mind blank and memories of last night crept in, jabbing gleefully at him.

What had he even been thinking? The stress of everything that happened yesterday must’ve torpedoed his common sense, because seriously, trying to seduce Edge in the hopes it would get them, what, a little security and an extra promise to help, on top of what he’d already done? Trust was a hard-earned commodity, Above or Belowground, but if he stirred a little critical thinking into his thought process, there was proof that Edge wasn’t exactly untrustworthy. Not yet, anyway. 

The whole shooting up their shop and Rus getting kidnapped off the street was Edge’s fault, sure, he’d admitted that much, but, honestly, Edge could’ve walked away at anytime already. He’d saved Rus at the shop, sure, but he could’ve let his brother get away with his little threat session without trying to intercede, could’ve let his old buddy Blaze keep Rus and not endangered himself at all getting him out of there. 

Edge said he wasn’t a good guy and maybe, okay, probably that was true, but that wasn’t exactly the side he’d been showing Rus, not quite. He’d been trying to clean up the mess he’d accidentally made and here was Rus, trying to barter for a little extra on the side. The more he thought about it, the more humiliating it was; he’d actually tried to…to _sell_ himself to Edge, a guy who could obviously get sex anytime he wanted, just because he’d confessed to having a bit of a fantasy going about him, like Rus wasn’t guilty of the same sort of idle daydream. 

A very bad person, he’d said, but he’d still sent Rus away rather than taking what he was offering, and maybe the whys of that weren’t completely clear, but that didn’t seem like something a bad guy would do. It just didn’t.

Which meant that Rus was the asshole for this round and what he wouldn’t give for a damn cigarette right about now. Nicotine cravings were already making him jittery, but his smokes were in his lost bag. That reminder gave him a pang; he was going to miss all those anime pins, he’d been collecting them since before they got to the surface. Kidnapping was one thing, stealing his hard-found collectibles was another level of jerk. 

Well, no matter what Edge’s reasons were for turning him down, all Rus could hope was that he had the decency not to bring it up in front of Blue. 

Rus shut the water off, snagging a large, fluffy towel to wipe off. His bones were barely dry as he stepped out onto the bathmat, careful not to slip. A concussion on top of everything was all he needed. 

He hung the damp towel up next to his brother’s and inspected the clothes in the stack. As suspected, they were new, every item of it down to the undershorts and socks. Not his normal choice of wardrobe; when he wasn’t at the shop Rus normally preferred T-shirts and shorts, and there was a plentiful cheap supply at the local thrift shop. He wasn’t really used to anyone else picking out his underwear and he debated on whether to leave them off before sighing and skimming on the soft cotton shorts. At least it wasn’t a red satin thong or something, he wasn’t sure he could stand sitting in the same room with that Red guy with something like that trying to saw his pelvis in half. 

The dark trousers fitted perfectly and so did the soft linen pullover, not the wine color of last night’s borrowed pajamas, but a deep sage green that contrasted nicely with his magic. Everything was exactly the right size and as odd as that was, Rus supposed it was still better than them raiding their house and going through their drawers. But he did wonder glumly how much this might add to their growing tab. 

There was a full-length mirror on one wall and Rus looked into it, studying his reflection. He didn’t look like himself, which was fine, because he damn well didn’t feel like himself, either. Probably hadn’t since Edge jumped the counter at the shop and pulled him down to the floor. 

His half-hour was about up, there was no putting it off any longer. Blue looked up anxiously when he came out and Rus summoned up his best cheesy grin and struck a pose, “ta-da, how do i look?”

“Very nice,” Blue told him, even as he gestured at Rus to lean down so he could fuss over his collar, smoothing it. “try not to spill anything down the front of it in the first five minutes?”

“do my best, food and gravity don’t always mix well around me.”

He followed his brother to the door where a comfortable pair of house shoes in his size were lined up neatly to the side waiting for him. Not, Rus noted, the kind meant to be worn outside. His own sneakers were nowhere to be seen and yeah, he could take a hint. ‘Stay put’ was the word, for now. 

A Dog was standing guard outside the door and Rus was shamefully relieved that it wasn’t the same guy as last night. He led them on another winding path and seriously, did the guy who designed this place go on to find fame and fortune making labyrinths for other Goblin Kings?

The door he led them to opened into a surprisingly airy room, with windowed French doors letting in the morning sunshine. Red was already seated at the head of a table and the cigar in his hand was thankfully unlit. His gold tooth glinted as he grinned, “mornin’, hope ya slept well.”

“We did, thank you,” Blue said. Rus only nodded along with him. He still wasn’t very interested in getting chatty with Mister ‘make it a double’ over there. If Edge really was as bad as he claimed to be, Rus could sure see where he picked it up from.

The table was long, topped in covered trays and platters, and the second Blue and Rus were seated, the lids were whisked away by the Dogs. Rus kinda thought he was getting to his limits of surprise, but it seemed like he still had some stashed away for a special occasion. 

The amount of food laid out was staggering; surrounding the crystal goblets of water and orange juice were bowls of prettily cut fruit, a platter of sticky pastries alongside crusty croissants. More plates that held richly browned sausages and crispy bacon, and there was an entire tray pancakes and waffles snuggled next to each other with a steaming pitcher of syrup beside them. Pan-grilled tomatoes, poached eggs nestled into their cups, this was more food than they saw in a week. Every dish held something delectable and Rus wasn’t sure his roiling magic would let him eat a single bite.

Looked like the dial on this place actually went all the way up to twelve. 

“Goodness,” Blue said, a little helplessly, “it certainly looks delicious.”

There was an air of something like smugness around Red, as if their obvious surprise pleased him, “eh, wasn’t sure what you liked, so i had ‘em bring in a lil’ of everythin’.”

A little of everything was one way to put it. Normally, a good breakfast in Rus’s opinion was when Blue splurged on the oatmeal with the dinosaur eggs.

Red picked up his fork and gestured at the table. “go ahead, dig in while it’s hot.”

Blue tucked his napkin into his lap first in that exaggerated way he did things that he expected Rus to mimic. “Shouldn’t we wait for your brother?”

“nah,” And Rus wasn’t sure why he was bothering with a napkin when it was clear their host didn’t mind talking around a mouthful of sausage. He at least swallowed before he added, “i shook him outta bed a bit ago, he’ll be down.”

That seemed to be enough to satisfy Blue’s sense of propriety. He began to fill his plate, taking a small portion from each tray. Rus only chose one of the pastries that had a quivering dollop of jam on top so that he had something to pick at, hyperaware of the way Red was watching them.

It made Rus think of a horror movie he’d seen, where a pale man hung around waiting for anyone who dared eat from his banquet and those that did paid the price for it with their lives.

Yeah, whatever, Red was no pale man, no eldritch horror. He was a thug playing dress up to impress them for some damn reason, trying to show off how much better he was. Wasn’t gonna work on Rus, thanks, Blue had twice the manners of this asshole, and when Red’s supposedly well-paid servants were scraping all this into the trash, Blue would still be the one who spent hours making cookies for the neighborhood kids in his rare time off. 

Defiantly, Rus took a huge bite of pastry, cheekbones puffing out and Blue didn’t even have a chance to kick him in the knee for his manners when the door was flung open and Edge stalked inside.

“morning, bro,” Red said easily. Edge only gave a surly grunt in return, heading right to the sidebar where a gleaming machine with too many dials and knobs sat. A few twists and clicks, and it started gurgling, filling the air with the gorgeous aroma of coffee and if it weren’t for the awkward ending to how Rus tried to get into Edge’s pants last night, he would have crawled over the table with a cup held out in a modern take on ‘please sir can I have some more’.

Look, he couldn’t be bought with fancy clothes or food, but coffee was on a different playing field. 

Since that wasn’t on the table, (heh), instead Rus chewed frantically, still trying to gulp down his overflowing mouthful of dry pastry when Edge turned around with a freshly filled cup in hand. He nearly choked on his first sip as he caught sight of the table, swinging around to give his brother a positively scathing glare.

Ah. Looked like maybe Red neglected to mention they’d be here. Great.

“Good morning,” Edge said, scowling into his cup. He was already impeccably dressed in one of those suits of his, but the normal rasp in his voice was downright hoarse and beneath his sockets were rusty stains of exhaustion. He didn’t look like he’d slept two winks after Rus left him last night.

“are you—” _okay_ , Rus didn’t say, looked back down at his plate. Like he had any right to ask Edge anything after what he did.

Turned out, he wasn’t the only one concerned. Blue never ignored a chance to play caretaker and he was all but standing in his chair, leaning across the table anxiously. “I hope you don’t mind me saying so, Edge, but you look a touch under the weather, are you feeling all right?”

“I’m afraid it’s self-inflicted,” Edge said. He took another long sip from his mug, clearing his throat before adding smoothly, “My apologies, I had a little too much to drink last night.”

That only seemed to up Blue’s concern, probably worrying it was their fault Edge was spending his night drinking, which, well, it sort of was. At least half their fault, anyway, and Rus stared hard at his plate where the bitten pastry was oozing jam like a wound.

“But self-inflicted doesn’t mean you need to suffer,” Blue objected. “I know how to heal, I could—”

“Thank you,” Edge interrupted firmly, “but no.”

“It’s no trouble at all!”

“I’m sure it’s not. I appreciate the offer, but it won’t be necessary.”

“But—"

Rus kept his head down, picking flecks of sugar glaze off his wounded pastry as he waited for Edge’s immovable object to stop butting against Blue’s unstoppable force. A wary glance at Red showed him leaning back in his seat with his hands woven together over his belly, watching the show. 

Yeah, he seemed like the kind of guy to think this was hilarious and considering that their height difference made Blue the metaphorical dachshund barking at the great dane’s ankles, Rus had to admit, Red sort of had a point. This time.

Blue looked as if he were chewing on his own tongue instead of a pancake, complaining, “If I could get to my garden, I’d at least make you some tea. It’s my own blend!”

Tea wasn’t a bad idea, really, not nearly as invasive as letting someone use their own magic directly on you. Golden flower tea, infused with the magic Blue used to tend to their gardens and like all Monster food, it had healing qualities. Rus knew from personal experience it tended to be quite potent. 

“Coffee will suffice,” Edge said decisively and that seemed to be the end of it. 

“Well, at least sit down and get some food in you. It’s been a while since my brother and I had a chance to share breakfast,” Blue said brightly. “He’s usually off to open the shop while I tend to the garden, it’s been mostly cold cereal for us, I’m afraid.”

“All I want is coffee, I need to get downtown.”

Red spoke up at then, “that ain’t no way to treat your guests.”

“We don’t have guests,” Edge snapped.

“no?” Red let out a short, abrupt laugh, though his glittering eye lights held no humor. “you got a better name, bro?”

Rus had a few. Prisoners, kidnappees, captives? Hostages? None of those seemed to quite fit the bill and maybe Edge was thinking the same thing. “I brought _one_ guest. The other is here entirely because of you, so I believe entertainment is your purview.”

“only fair for me to have a pal if you do.”

“Yes, fair,” Edge said dryly. “Fairness is always a concern of yours.” 

“hey.” That tone made Rus want to sit up straight and cringe at the same time, iron-hard. “have a seat, boss.”

Boss? Rus gave up on his attempt to blend into the furniture and looked up, reluctantly curious. Red caught him out almost instantly and his cool glare shifted to an easy, lazy grin. 

“don’t need to be so surprised, sweetheart, edge is the one who runs things ‘round here,” Red said lazily. “i do this and that, let him handle th’ important shit. always was fuckin’ terrible at paperwork.”

Next to him, Blue was chewing determinedly, stabbing at his sausages with his fork. It was probably killing him not to chide Red about his language, but he was also their host. Torn between one set of manners and another left him at a silent impasse.

Edge gave his brother another scathing glare but didn’t argue. “I need to get to work.”

He set his coffee cup down on the side of the table with a solid thunk, turning towards the door, and he was going to leave, heading out when he wasn’t at his best where there were people trying to kill him and Rus wouldn’t even have a chance to say anything, to explain, he couldn’t—

“i’m sorry!” Rus blurted out as he shot to his feet, knocking against the table hard enough to rattle the glasses and flatware. “i’m so sorry, for last night. i didn’t mean for that to happen.”

Edge froze. Slowly, he turned back to face Rus, looking down at him and Rus met that unwavering crimson gaze without flinching, despite the frantic pounding in his soul. He wasn’t good at this, not with apologies or confrontation; he’d rather go hide and smoke through a pack of cheap Marlboros until he was sick while wishing for this to all go away. But he couldn’t let Edge go out there thinking…well, thinking whatever he did about Rus. By now he had to be catching on to the fact that his fantasies weren’t anything close to Rus’s reality and that was what it was, but at least Rus wanted that reality to be the truth and not tainted by one thoughtless act.

Edge looked away first, flicking a glance at Blue and Red, both who were watching with varying levels of narrow confusion.

“Forthright,” Edge murmured. His tight, cold expression eased, softening, “I’m sorry, too, flower shop. I was a little drunk, and I shouldn’t have,” his gaze flicked again to Red, who was watching with brow bones climbing ever higher on his forehead, and Blue, who was full out gaping, mouth open. Whatever he’d been about to say was amended smoothly to, “Shouldn’t have said what I did.”

“okay, so we’re both sorry. that’s…that’s good.” Rus smiled a little, stupidly. It wasn’t like this solved anything or changed it. It still made that hard ache behind his breastbone loosen, gave him some measure of ease.

That faint, lopsided smile curving Edge’s mouth was even better. Rus braced himself when Edge reached out, then he watched in confusion as Edge plucked up a napkin, dabbing lightly at the side of Rus’s mouth. “Jam,” he said, as if in explanation. As though anything could explain the way he paused with his knuckles lightly resting against Rus’s chin, his gloved thumb following along the same path as the napkin, “Behave while I’m gone. I’m running low on rescues.”

It took a second for that to get through the warm, fuzzy haze settling over Rus, brought on by the gentle touch against his mouth. When it did, he stood up straighter in pure indignation, protesting, “i wasn’t misbehaving before!”

“No, you weren’t,” Edge agreed. “But somehow, you’ve already figured out how to cause me plenty of trouble, I’d hate to see what you manage if you actually tried.”

Rus swore he could feel the husky rumble of that voice through Edge’s touch, but it was another voice that broke the spell, this one as jagged as broken glass.

“thought you were leavin', boss,” Red sounded perturbed and he seemed to have forgotten his quest to get Edge to sit down to breakfast with them.

Edge said nothing. There was only a last brush of his gloved fingers across Rus’s cheekbone, satin-soft over the lingering bruise. Then he turned on his heel and walked out, leaving Rus alone with an outraged Red and his own suspicious brother.

Rude. Guess rescues didn’t include from family. 

Welp, Edge might like to play the knight in tarnished armor, but for Rus, he was going with abject cowardice. He started filling his plate with food, ignoring the way Edge’s cologne seemed to cling to where he’d touched and replaced that aroma with tasty bacon. 

“this’s really good,” Rus said around a mouthful, risking his brother’s wrath as he shoveled in another bite. If he kept eating, he couldn’t say anything stupid.

It was worth a shot.

Edge’s half-filled coffee cup was still sitting on the table and with a mental shrug Rus stole it, downing the bitter blackness in a shuddering gulp. Waste not the caffeine. He had a feeling from the way Red and Blue were still staring at him that he was probably gonna need all the help he could get.

* * *

tbc


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

If there was one teeny, tiny minuscule benefit to being at breakfast with Red and Blue, it was that no matter how much they both looked like they wanted to ask questions, they obviously didn’t want to do it in front of each other.

The looks they were sending each other were loaded with things unspoken and Rus only pretended to be oblivious, focused on cleaning his plate. It tasted better now without guilt flavoring it, he supposed anxiety over an upcoming brotherly chat wasn’t as much of a downer on his appetite. It took a little longer for Blue to go back to his own breakfast and he chewed with determined focus, his fork scraping loudly on his plate.

Red gave up on food entirely, choosing instead to have a cigar for breakfast. The tip smoldered almost the same crimson heat as his glaring eye lights. 

As slow as Rus ate, in mincing little bites, and as many times as he refilled his plate, twice, until his magic felt bloated, eventually he had to admit defeat. He couldn’t avoid the questions forever. Honestly, he wasn’t sure who he’d prefer to be cornered by first, Red or Blue. At least with Red there was a chance of putting him out of his misery.

Finally, he pushed away his plate with a sigh, wiping at his mouth with his napkin. By now, Blue was practically vibrating with impatience and the smell of Red’s cigar wafting down the table was killing the taste, anyway.

“finished?” Red said, dryly. He jerked a thumb at the door, the heavy rings on his fingers glinting, “good, now head outta here.”

Rus only blinked at him dumbly, “what?” 

That wasn’t at all what he’d been expecting, his own version of the inquisition was what was supposed to be coming. Instead, Red sighed, deep and exaggerated. “go on, kid, me and your bro got some business to attend to.”

“Yes, business,” Blue said and there was something in his voice, brittle in a way that Rus didn’t think he’d ever heard before. But the smile he turned Rus’s way was bright and he made a little shooing gesture, “Go on, brother, I’ll come to you when we’re finished.

“have a look around,” Red said, easily, “dogs will keep you outta trouble, so do whatever ya want.” His grin went wide, tight and sharky, “within reason, _flower shop.”_

Hearing that little nickname said so sardonically made him stiffen and Rus fumbled to his feet, tossing his napkin on the table and heading for the door. At least he’d managed not to spill anything on himself.

At the door, he hesitated, looking back at Blue. It felt like abandoning him and they’d always had each other’s back, stayed together underground and above, gotten through everything together. Blue only waved him impatiently on and it stung, a little, like his days back in stripes being told to stay put when the adults needed to talk. A miserable flush heated his cheek bones and Rus turned back, walked out the door. 

The same Dog who’d led them here this morning was waiting, probably ready to take him back to their room, but Rus hung back. He didn’t want to watch TV, knew he wouldn’t be able to take a nap, so instead he asked, tentatively. “can you take me to that room with the books?”

To his relief the Dog nodded, and this time Rus paid closer attention which way they went. He didn’t really need a map, anyway, if he had a general idea where they were, he could take a shortcut instead of relying on Red’s endless Dog pack to lead him around on an invisible leash.

That office was only two left turns away and the Dog held the door open for him, letting Rus in, then closing it behind him. Probably planning to stand out in the hall waiting and it was whatever, at least he was in a room with books.

There were so many, most of them luxuriously leather-bound and looking as if they’d never even been opened. Shakespeare and Chaucer, Austin and Dickens; the kinds of books someone would show off if they were trying to impress. But buried into one corner were some popular novels, dogeared and comfortably worn.

Rus hesitated over choosing one, glancing over at the massive desk on the other side of the room. His curiosity was itching, it was, oh, so tempting to see what kinds of things were hidden in its depths…which would probably fall under that whole misbehaving thing Edge warned him about. He’d already decided to leave it alone when a glance into one corner froze him, making him very glad he hadn’t made the attempt. The rounded lens of a camera was pointing right at him, a little red light blinking.

Books. Right.

Rus picked one of the worn novels, an old favorite of his, and settled into one of the oversized chairs to read. 

‘The Turn of the Screw’ seemed an apt choice, all things considered.

* * *

Rus was barely through the first chapter when he heard something of a commotion out in the hallway. There wasn’t any screaming or gunfire, so hey, probably safe enough to peek out the door and he did, catching sight of several broad backs and shaggy tails making their way down the hallway with a rattle of metal and ceramic. 

The Dogs were carrying the trays from breakfast, Rus realized, at the same moment that he saw that his ‘guard’ wasn’t at his post. He was helping carry them, probably back to the kitchen and that stirred his curiosity again.

What kind of kitchen must this place have, it had to be something wild, right? Something right out of ‘Top Chef’ with all the absolute best tools and gadgets. If Rus got a good look at it, he’d have some gossip to distract Blue from the questions he was pretty sure his big bro had. It never hurt to have a little something something as a backup plan. 

Of course, he could ask to tag along to see it, Red obviously told the Dogs to let him explore a little, but, eh, where was the fun in that? Sneaking into the kitchen wasn’t getting into trouble and even if it was, the cameras were out here, too. Someone would probably show up to foil his sketchy plans if there was a problem with it.

Sounded good, right? Right.

Rus trailed along behind them as quietly as he could. This place really was bigger than it seemed, weird twists and turns, and for the first time it occurred to Rus that it was probably a real security feature. Hard for anyone to attack or kidnap in here if they couldn’t _find_ you. A couple of the doors they went through needed a swipe card and Rus managed to catch them with a touch of blue magic before they closed, gleeful that the dogs didn’t notice; probably they’d pay more attention going in, it wasn’t like they expected anyone to be sneaking out. They were chatting together, too far away for Rus to hear, and the dishes were rattling. A perfect storm to keep them from noticing their skeletal shadow.

They went down some stairs, ugh, rude not to have an elevator for them, did Red really have his guys hauling three meals a day up the stairs.

Rus crouched on the landing where they couldn’t glance up and see him, waiting until they went around the corner before creeping down. From there they went through another door and that left him scrambling. He couldn’t exactly follow them right into the kitchen and once they dropped off the trays, the Dogs would probably head right back upstairs and right into him, catching him before he had a chance to get any intel. 

The door was already opening again when Rus darted through another door with a placard that read ‘janitorial’ and hey, what do you know, it was filled with brooms and shelves of cleaning supplies. 

There was no window. All he could do was wait, counting impatiently, trying to decide exactly how long it would take a couple of guard Dogs to go down the hall and around the corner. They might not be mad about him following them down, but if they caught him out now, there would be questions he didn’t really want to explain why he was hiding with the Clorox and Pine-sol. 

Cautiously, Rus crept out into the very empty hallway then down to the door, slipping inside and—

Oh. This was very much not the kitchen, not the kitchen _at all._ Even if the lack of appliances and counterspace didn’t clue him in, Rus was pretty sure that cooks usually wore more clothing. Like, a lot more.

The people sitting around the room were mostly wearing robes that were hanging open over scanty underthing; very _pretty_ people, Monsters in every shape and shade whose attractiveness wasn’t at all diminished by the way they were eagerly digging into the leftover food. All the trays from that morning were crowded on a long folding table, the kind they used sometimes in banquet halls.

There was a microwave on one end of the table, but no one was using it, no one seemed to mind if their eggs were lukewarm. There was also an open package of store-bought tortillas and several of them were layering sausage with hash browns, topping them with tomatoes for an impromptu breakfast burrito as they chatted, the room filled with laughter and the sounds of eating. 

Rus stood there for far too long, gaping rudely, when one of them looked up and let out a small cry. A sudden hush fell over the room, a dozen or so eyes staring at Rus while he stared back. 

A Bun was the first to speak up, maybe the same one he’d seen dancing yesterday, it was hard to tell with her bra on. Her mink-brown fur was clean and fluffed, with a spray of spots across her muzzle that passed for freckles. Her ears were pulled up in a loose sort of ponytail, and her robe was a nearly transparent shade of cream with lace dripping from the cuffs. 

She pasted on a smile, said with sweet firmness, “Sugar, back here is off-limits to guests, you’re gonna have to head back out—" she trailed off, setting her half-filled plate aside as she rose gracefully to her feet and came over to study him closer. Rus tried not to flinch as she lightly touched his collar, her eyes traced over the rest of him. “You don’t look like a paying customer, honey, you lost?” 

“i’m a friend of edge’s,” Rus said, warily. “i came from upstairs.” It felt a little too much like namedropping and he wasn’t sure what reaction he expected, maybe shrieks of terror or someone swooning at the mere mention of his name. 

Instead, the pall that had settled over the room when they noticed him faded as quickly as it’d come, the tense tide in the fluttering sea of silk and lace rolling back out as the others went back to filling their plates.

“Oh, a friend of the Boss! That’s different,” the Bun laughed and slid a surprisingly strong arm around him, guiding him further inside despite the reluctant drag of Rus’s shoes. “Then you go on and pull up a chair, hon, and help yourself! We don’t mind, do we, girls?” 

A chorus of denials came from the others, a few of them muffled around chewing.

“thanks, but i already had a crack at it earlier,” Rus tried. He couldn’t help giving the door a longing glance, this place wasn’t exactly the kind of gossip that Blue would be interested in, though Rus was very sure he’d have a lot to say about it. But the Bun didn’t relent and Rus resigned himself staying for a few minutes. Two days ago, he’d hardly a single secret to keep from his brother and now it looked like he was getting a collection. 

“Then sit anyway and chat,” the bun said. Her smile was sly, red-tinted lips curving. “You came all the way down here, may as well. My name is Mona, what do you go by around these parts?”

“Rus, ma’am.” He almost fell silly being so mannerly, but the lessons of childhood stuck, even when a person found themselves it what he figured was the stripper’s breakroom. Blue always told him manners weren’t only for special days and he didn’t miss the fleeting surprise and pleasure that crossed Mona’s face. It made him wonder when the last time someone called her anything like ma’am or miss, or if she was more accustomed to something worse. 

“Oh, you sweet thing,” Mona giggled. She retrieved her plate and heaped a pile of fruit on it, confessing, “I’d take the whole thing if I could, never can resist fresh mango. The boss always makes sure we get the leftovers after they do their fancy meetings. Makes for a nice treat. I can hardly pour a bowl of cereal, myself, kinda a literal version of can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.”

“Better to save your heat for the stage, Mona!” One of the others called and a titter of laughter rose up around the room while Rus tried not to think about seeing that very stage act last night through the ceiling glass.

“Hush, you, and eat!” Mona scolded, even as she laughed herself. 

“that’s really nice of him to bring you food like that,” Rus said slowly. It was and it made Rus feel a little guilty about his assumptions earlier about all of it getting scraped into the trash. A kindness he didn’t assume of Edge, and Rus thought unhappily that it said something about him more than Edge, something unkind. A reminder that he barely knew Edge and it seemed like his perceptions were getting challenged at every step, reality slowly getting shaken out of all of his daydreams.

“He’s a good fella,” Mona agreed, popping a grape into her mouth. “Boss takes good care of us.” Very softly, too quietly for anyone else to hear, “Not sure why he’s got you holed up here, but he’ll take good care of you, too, honey. And you call me Mona, all right now?” 

That kind reassurance made Rus swallow hard. He snagged one of the muffins, simply to have something to do with his hands, nodding a little as he murmured, “okay, miss mona.” 

That earned him another pleased chuckle. Thinking of the names a stripper might be used to only made him more determined to hold to politeness. A person wasn’t only their job, not Edge and not these ladies, and Mona seemed so kind. She deserved his manners.

Filled plate in hand, Mona guided Rus over to one of the sofas that was pushed up against the wall, plopping down on the sagging cushions. Around them, conversation started up again, and Rus had to admit, it was sort of fascinating to listen to someone else’s gossip for a change. As it turned out, it wasn’t so different than the chitchat he made back at the shop with the regular customers There was idle speculation on the weather, if the humidity was finally gonna break into rain and give them some of the sunshine they all craved. About the set list for that night, songs that Rus didn’t know and a few he made a mental note to give a listen. A few of them asked him his favorite songs and Rus offered a couple tentatively to nods and delight, and made a mental promise to never let Blue know that at any given moment there might be a monster downstairs taking off her clothes to the same song he tended to sing when he weeded.

One gal complained about her current boyfriend and the consensus was that she needed to dump his ass. Rus agreed, saying stoutly, “if he’s a cheater, you deserve better. let your neighbor have him if she wants him so bad, she can pay his rent for a change!”

A chorus of agreement circled the sofas and Rus tore off a piece of his muffin to munch on, hiding his pleased grin. Not much was worse than a cheater, in his opinion, promising love and then breaking their word along with someone’s heart.

“You said it, honey. Aren’t you an angel?” the Cat Monster purred. To his dismay, she slunk to her feet, all sleek grace in totteringly high heels. She was wearing a dress that was little more than a tube of material hugging her curves, bubblegum pink a sharp contrast to her short white fur. Her tail lazily coiled around her ankles as she leaned down and said teasingly, “You offering to take his spot, sugar skull?”

Um. Rus struggled to swallow down his mouthful of muffin, managed to croak out around it, “sorry, i don’t like girls. no, wait, i mean! i like girls, not, like like, it’s…that’s not what i mean!”

Soft laughter from the Cat Monster drowned him out, bright and unoffended, “Aww, guess I’m out of the running, he doesn’t like pussy.”

“Don’t tease him, Lilith!” Mona scolded, patting Rus’s arm even as heat flooded his cheekbones. “Remember, he’s a guest of the Boss.” 

“Uh huh,” the Cat, Lilith, turned away, tail swishing, “Figures. Sure can’t fault his taste.”

Another murmur of agreement went around the room and Rus buried his face into his hands, cringing. Wanting to deny it and at the same time, he didn’t, really, how could he? Edge was handsome by most standards, even Human ones, especially the kind who were probably out in the main room right now, waiting for his new friends to finish their breakfast and get back to dancing.

Mona wasn’t one of them. She yawned, showing her large, blunt front teeth, and stood. “I’m about to head home, my shift is over for the night. How long are you staying upstairs, honey?”

“only a few days, i think.” He hoped.

“Well, you come on back and say hello again, you hear?” She held out a hand and when Rus shook it, and her grip was light, gentle. “It was nice to meet you, Rus.”

“it was nice to meet you, too, miss mona,” Rus said, honestly. He might come back and visit again even when he wasn’t stuck staying upstairs and it wasn’t a secret if he simply didn’t bring it up to his brother. Right?

Mona gave him a last smile and slipped out of the room.

The other ladies were wandering out, too, some still carrying coffee cups, others straightening their clothes and hair, breaks over and ready to head back to work. Rus left them behind and found his way back to the stairs. The door at the top was locked and Rus didn’t have a keycard, but that was fine. He didn’t really want to try to retrace his steps all the way back anyway and after a glance to make sure no one was watching, he took a sideways step into a shortcut, stepping out into the book-filled office. 

There was no one in the room, it was exactly as he’d left it, his book still sitting on the side table. No alarms sounded or sirens blared. If anyone was watching those cameras, they didn’t seem too concerned about him blinking in and out, and that seemed…odd. All this security and no one minded if he shortcutted around? He’d have to ask Edge about it, maybe, next time he saw him.

Well. If he saw him. It wasn’t like there was any reason for Edge to come looking for him, not really, unless it was to let Rus know they could head home.

Actually, there was really no reason at all for him to see Edge again, not privately anyway, and that realization shouldn’t have made his soul sink so unpleasantly. That was actually the point of them being here, wasn’t it, hiding out for a bit while Blue settled their business arrangements, a percent of money for ongoing protection, that was all, and maybe Rus didn’t trust Red entirely, but he believed Edge when he said his brother kept his promises. 

Edge wasn’t asking anything else of Rus. He didn’t want any bargain of his own, honestly seemed pretty damned against it, and it was probably better if Rus didn’t see much of him, easier to get back to his own simple floral life.

Simple. Right.

It’d been a couple of hours since his own breakfast but suddenly, Rus was tired in a way he hadn’t been before. He’d head back to their room and if Blue was there, maybe he could beg for a chance at a nap before they had the chat he knew was coming. 

The chances of him finding his way back to their room on his own was slim to none but Rus was reluctant to shortcut again and instead headed out the door. He was bound to bump into someone who could lead the way.

He didn’t expect it to be literal. The moment he opened the door and stepped out Rus plowed into what felt like a wall. A very nicely clothed one, his flailing hands sliding over cashmere and linen as he scrabbled for a hold to keep him upright. His luck wasn’t with him lately and he probably would have fallen, except two large hands settled on his shoulders, holding on, and okay, what did it mean that he already knew that touch, the gentle grip of increasingly familiar gloved hands.

“Careful,” Edge said. The deep, rolling resonance of his voice never failed to make Rus shiver, like an invisible touch climbing up his spine. The sneaking, sly thought came that he’d nearly learned how a real touch would feel in the same place, would have if he hadn’t panicked last night. Rus shoved it forcefully away. So much for not seeing Edge again while he was here, and his relief was embarrassingly strong.

“whoops, sorry!” Rus managed to laugh, ignoring the nervous butterfly flutter of his soul, “all these hallways and i still managed to…run…into…” 

The words whickered right out of his head as Rus finally looked up, leaving blank shock behind as he stared, and it was only then that he noticed, distantly, that the normal rich tang of Edge’s cologne was tainted with char. 

What. The. Fuck.

“what the fuck, _what happened?!_ ” Rus blurted aloud, all his humor, his cheer at meeting the ladies downstairs and his sneaky-sly thoughts about Edge touching him vanishing as he lunged to catch Edge when he rocked unsteadily on his feet in a way that had nothing to do with Rus bumping into him, all his heavy weight caught briefly in Rus’s desperate embrace.

* * *

tbc


	9. Interlude 2: Growth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Rus is off meeting the other employees of Edge's business, Blue has his own business to attend to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, how to warn for this. Red is Not a Nice Man, no, and Blue is in way over his pretty little head. Hints of coercive sex? Nothing Mature-rated in this chapter, though.

* * *

As much as it pained him to watch his brother go, when Papy turned around to look at him Blue waved him impatiently on, painfully ignoring how much that strangely vulnerable glance reminded him of the long-ago first day he’d shooed his little brother into the small schoolhouse back in Snowdin.

What he really wanted was to scoop Papy up like he was still that small child and run, to carry him away from all this. Whatever that chat last night with the younger Fell was about, it confirmed his suspicions that his little brother was in far deeper than he’d hoped, and for the moment, all Blue could do was hope Papy was treading water.

Across the table, Red was watching him and despite that ever-present grin, his expression was unreadable as a blank page. Blue made a show of wiping his face with his napkin and pushing his plate aside. What little he’d eaten was churning uneasily as it incorporated with his magic until nausea threatened. Resolutely, Blue swallowed it down. He’d agreed to this, now he needed to see it through to the end.

“you done?” Red asked with mocking solicitousness. 

“Yes,” Blue said. He let his starry eye lights glimmer, his own mocking buried beneath honeyed sweetness as he said, “Thank you so much for the breakfast. It was certainly—” He paused only briefly, then added, “generous of you.”

That razor grin widened, sharp enough to cut through bone, and Blue suspected his true emotions weren’t as buried as he’d hope. “oh, honey,” Red chuckled, “we ain’t even got to generous yet.” He stood up, groaning through a joint-cracking stretch and scratched lewdly at the back of his pelvis. “okay, baby blue, let’s go.”

Red led the way to the door and held it open, bowing exaggeratedly, “after you.”

“I don’t know where we’re going,” Blue protested, hanging back.

Another sharp grin, but the humor crumbled around it, those marrow-red eye lights going hard, “uh huh. go through the fucking door.”

Blue dropped his gaze and went. One of the Dogs who seemed to proliferate this place was waiting and he led the way, Blue nearly trotting along behind him to keep up with Red sauntering along behind him, his bulk filling in any space to retreat. Blue was well accustomed to being the shortest adult person in a room, but never had he felt so small, surrounded by all these Dogs and the sheer presence of Red, of these endless hallways closing in claustrophobically around him. He kept his gaze towards the floor, following the Dog’s flowing tail more than his stride. 

The room he was led to was lit with hanging purple lights and filled with short tables topped with shallow plant trays. The rich smell of soil was familiar and for the first time in some while it did nothing to settle Blue’s anxiety, actually increased it. He shivered, feeling sweat breaking out beneath his unwanted new shirt as he covered his mouth briefly with his hand as nausea threatened again. 

Red didn’t seem to notice his reluctance. He looked at the room with satisfaction, taking a puff off his smoldering cigar as he said, “not bad for a starter set. got everything you asked for.” He slanted a narrow look at Blue and it was far more appraising than it had been of the planting tables. “now. show me what you got.”

“You shouldn’t smoke in here,” Blue said thinly. “It’s bad for the plants.”

“always something with you, ain’t it, honey,” Red drawled. But he exaggeratedly tamped out his cigar on the bottom of his shoe and tucked it into his jacket pocket. 

Blue didn’t dare look at him again, afraid it might come off as gloating. Instead, he stepped further inside, rolling up his sleeves as he inspected the offerings. The tools were all new, stainless steel reflecting violet light, and there was a pair of flower-patterned gloves along with them. Blue slipped them on, wondering sourly if there was a joke in that choice or if it was simply the first gloves whoever purchased all this found. 

Squeezing a handful of soil into a moist ball confirmed it was the correct ratio of sand, silt, and clay, with a healthy dollop of manure that he could smell. Exactly what he needed; he could urge the plants to grow but that growth still needed nutrients and sunshine, or in this case grow lights. Blue took a moment to dig an even trench from one end of the tray to the other. Then he took a shaky breath as he chose the last needed element.

The seeds were his own, retrieved from the fire safe secreted away in his room. Not that he expected anyone to break into their home in search of them, but they were invaluable, irreplaceable. He couldn’t chance them being lost. 

He poured out a small handful of precious seeds and sprinkled them into the rich soil, carefully covering them. 

There was only one step left. Blue held a hand over the soil and closed his eyes, calling up his magic. Urging plants to grow was like a dance and Blue was leading, pulling that growth gently in the direction it needed to go, urging and coaxing those curling green buds through the soil, guiding as they greedily sought out the light above them even as their roots soaked up the delicious nutrients beneath. All down the row the narrow green stems broadened, forking into leaves as the bud formed and swelled, that glimmer of gold bursting out into the familiar pattern of five silky petals.

Blue closed his fist and broke the connection before he pushed them too far into withering, stepping back and panting out, “There.”

The entire tray was filled to overflowing with golden flowers, the color muted beneath the grow lights. It hardly mattered, it wasn’t for their appearance that Blue grew them and as Red stepped forward to poke at one with a broad, cracked finger, his eye lights gleamed greedily.

“not bad, baby blue,” he breathed out, “you got some real talent, dontcha.”

“So I’ve been told,” Blue muttered. He stripped off the gloves and pulled out his handkerchief, dabbing away the sweat dotting his forehead. “What are you planning on doing with them?”

“am i lettin’ you in on all my secrets now, honey,” Red asked, amused. He brushed a hand over the flower heads, sending them bobbling. “can’t imagine why you haven’t been growin’ ‘em all along. hell, even a little weed woulda gotten ya more capital than your pretty posies.”

“Whether or not I wanted to, I couldn’t,” Blue said shortly. “Cannabis isn’t legal for Monsters to grow.” Not that he suspected that would even slow someone like the Fell brothers down, but Blue had his own standards of business, ones that he was currently watching burn away with depressing haste. “Besides, these aren’t a drug, the euphoria is very temporary.”

Red snorted loudly. “all euphoria’s temporary, ’s the best thing about it. see, humies got this thing ‘bout not trusting drugs. but somethin’ homegrown like this? they’ll be all over it, honey, and they’ll bring the bills to pay for it, too, you watch.”

“You really think Humans will like tea better than the flowers?” Blue said doubtfully. Even for most Monsters, Golden Flower tea was something of an acquired taste. Certainly it brought on a sort of blissful relaxation, made all the more potent by Blue’s growing technique, but it was very limited. Even at the finest quality, the faint rush hardly lasted an hour. 

“i know so.” Red reached out and tapped Blue’s nasal ridge with one finger, the sharpened tip prickling faintly against the bone. “all it needs ’s a market and that’s my job, honey. all you gotta to do is grow it.”

As if it was that simple. “If I spend all my time growing golden flowers, I won’t have time for my garden.”

“don’t you go worrying about that,” Red said dismissively. He started to walk away, out of the room, as if all this were signed and settled, leaving Blue behind, to what, fill each of these trays and trust it would all work out? Not likely. 

“Our deal was you help me keep my shop,” Blue raised his voice, let it echo through the room, “You promised!”

Red stopped, slowly turning back to face him and suddenly Blue wasn’t sure that was what he actually wanted. He strode back and he wasn’t that much taller than Blue, but so much broader, looming over him with invisible height as he said, evenly, “so i did.” There was a folding chair by the table and as Red sat, Blue could only blink at the abrupt reversal in size. “you think i ain’t keeping my side of the bargain, honey? wanna file a complaint?”

“No,” Blue said bluntly, ignoring the desperate flutter of his soul, “what I think is we need to renegotiate terms.”

Red looked at him with hooded sockets. “do ya now.”

“I do.” Blue folded his arms over his chest, the bright material of his shirt muted in the artificial light, shifting it to flowers of a different color. “Things seem to have changed since our first discussion. For example, what is your brother doing to mine?”

The question bothered him, Blue could see it, a banked flicker of heat in those burning eye lights. That sign was the only one, none of his irritation showed in the way he slid down in the chair, spreading his broad legs wide. 

“tell ya what, baby blue. you come over here and blow me,” Red cupped a rough hand at the slight bulge of his crotch and squeezed. “and i’ll find out.”

Oh. Blue jerked his gaze away a little too late, his breath coming in panicked little blurts even as his eye lights slid betrayingly back. Not that he would even consider doing such a thing, he would _never_ —but he hadn’t forgotten the brief satisfaction of wiping away that smirk back at the shop. 

Did Red actually want…? 

There was a faint gleam of sweat on the cracked dome of Red’s skull, the room was warm from the lights, true, but that didn’t explain the slight flush on his cheekbones, the rising glow coming from beneath the crude grip of his hand and those eye lights were so greedily eager, so…so… 

Blue lifted his chin and said coolly, “I don’t barter with my body. If you want oral sex from me, you'll need to get it the old-fashioned way.”

There was a mere taste of gratification from the way Red blinked, startled. “how’s that?” Red asked. He sounded reluctantly intrigued.

“By going first.”

As he watched, that smirk shifted into a true grin, savagely amused. Red pounded a fist on the table and laughed. “honey, you are somethin’.” Then he ran his tongue over his teeth, leaving them shining and wet as the tip dipped in between the jagged edges. “all right. come over and spread ‘em, and i’ll show ya what i got.”

For one moment of pure insanity, Blue was honestly tempted; it already felt like he was caught in the swirling vortex of a drain and it would be so, so much easier to simply dive it and give over to the pull. It was the memory of his brother’s face, his uncertain fear this morning that held him back and Blue clung to it, his last bastion of morality as he said, evenly, “No, I don’t think so.”

That smile fell away. “no?”

“You told me yourself you don’t like to mix business and pleasure,” Blue reminded him. “and our business isn’t yet concluded.”

“no, it ain’t, heh.” Red shook his head and stood. “get to work, i’ll stop back later, see how you’re doing. mebbe we’ll chat more about your deal, then.” Before Blue could move, his chin was pinched gently between two sharpened fingers, his face tilted up and Red’s eye lights roved over his face, studying him. It did not escape his notice that gaze lingered over his mouth. The smell of tobacco on Red’s breath was sharp, bitter as he murmured, “i’m gonna look forward to wreckin’ you, baby blue.”

Then he let go and turned away, his boots heavy on the floor as he headed towards the door. Blue waited until Red was nearly to it before he called, “We’ll have to see about that, won’t we.”

Blue only wished he were anywhere near as confident as he sounded. 

His own raucous laughter followed Red out the door and when it closed, Blue sank to the floor, covering his face with his hands and wished again that he could simply grab his brother and run, get them both as far away from this place as possible. 

Then he wiped his eyes impatiently and stood, reaching again for the gardening gloves. The simple option was no longer available. All he could do now was try to keep up and hope that he could get his brother out mostly unscathed. 

If only he knew how scathed Papy already was. That was a question for tonight. For now, Blue had work to do and he started sowing seeds even as he struggled to ignore a different sort of growth, the aching worry take root in his very soul.

* * *

tbc


	10. Chapter 10

* * *

Rus knew what he looked like. Tall, gangling skeleton and his bones were thin, almost delicate. Most people probably thought a stiff breeze would send him off like a tumbleweed and they were sort of right. He would’ve had more than a couple scars from a childhood from tripping over his own feet if his brother wasn’t such a good healer. 

But if you took his innate clumsiness out of the equation, it was a load of bullshit, really. He’d helped his brother set up their garden, hauled bags of soil and manure, lugged oversized flowerpots, carried fencing and poles. He wasn’t weak, thank you very much, but even he had to admit, holding up a Monster of Edge’s size for any length of time was pushing him to his limits.

Luckily, he didn’t have to manage long. Edge caught his balance quickly, rocked unsteadily back to his feet and once Rus wasn’t completely blanketed by tall skeleton, he got a better view of the Dogs standing on either side of him, helping hold him up. Okay, they were at least part of the reason Edge hadn’t fallen on him, so what, he was pretty sure he did his part. 

More Dogs, wow, did they buy these guys by the six pack? They were pretty good at the stoic, almost as good as Edge, but Rus didn’t miss their brief, amused tail wags. Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, watching him trying to catch Edge must’ve been a funny sight, like a meek village fool trying to catch a crumbling mountain.

But watching them immediately school their expressions to bland seriousness when Edge looked at them was even better. 

Large hands settled on his shoulders, drawing his attention back to Edge and more to the point, his _face_ , holy fuck—

“I’m all right,” Edge started, and no, just no. 

“you certainly don’t look like it!” Rus snapped. He took hold of one of Edge’s sleeves, flinching at sight of the charred fray that was all that remained of his gloves. “come on, for pity’s sake, come sit down!”

Edge didn’t really resist, bemusedly letting Rus lead the way down the hallway. Only for Rus to stop a few steps in, turning back to admit sheepishly. “um. i’m not sure where you were going?”

He hadn’t heard any of the Dogs speak yet, but that wasn’t entirely unusual, some Monsters didn’t use a verbal language. It didn’t stop one of them from letting out a snicker, hastily quelled when Edge slanted him a dour look. 

“This way, flower shop.” Edge took the lead and stayed on his feet mostly under his own steam with the occasional steadying hand from one of the Dogs. He led the way to another of the thousand doors, only this one had a panel that opened to reveal a keypad. Rus pointedly didn’t watch as Edge punched in the code and went inside. 

But it wasn’t an infirmary of any sort or even a bathroom. Inside was a large bedroom, dominated by an enormous four poster bed that was covered in an fluffy comforter and huge pillows, with actual curtains hung around it, like they’d taken an accidental trip with the Ghost of Gyftmas Past and wandered into the bedroom of Ebeneezer Scrooge. Rus hovered awkwardly by the door as the Dogs helped Edge to one of the wide sofas set in a half-circle in a sort of open-air sitting room. 

Once Edge was settled, the Dogs took their leave and Rus didn’t miss the wink one of them sent his way. 

Well, it seemed they were expecting him to play nurse, not exactly a role he’d had much experience in. One look at Edge had him setting his shoulders, ready to step up and give it his best shot, though if there were any cracks about him putting on a little white dress, he was out. 

Or maybe he was fooling himself, because he couldn’t possibly leave Edge alone like this. His clothes were streaked with burnt marks, the fine suit from that morning looked like it only recently stopped smoldering. Worse of all, the bone all down one side of his face was scorched and blackened, and Rus supposed it was a small mercy that the damage was on the already injured side of his skull. 

Just looking at it made nausea lurch up into his throat. Rus swallowed it down and walked over, biting the tip of his tongue and focusing on that tiny hurt while he inspected the damages.

It must be painful, but Edge didn’t flinch from Rus’s timid prodding as he tried to decide if he actually _could_ help or if he needed to find a phone to call for someone more qualified. So much soot and who knew what damage beneath it. Rus blinked hard as sympathetic tears welled; he’d always hated seeing anything hurt, Rus was the one getting teased for rescuing worms from the sidewalks after a storm and giving the pigeons in the park the crusts from his sandwiches. A thumb grazed underneath his socket, wiping away the trickle of tears, and Rus could smell the smoky char on Edge’s ruined gloves.

“It’s not that bad, flower shop,” Edge murmured. “I’m only a little crisp around the _edges_.” If he were trying for lightness, he failed, and Rus could feel wetness escaping from around his touch, trickling down his cheekbones. “Don’t,” Edge tried, “You don’t need to—"

“this is about us, isn’t it?” Rus interrupted softly. He wasn’t sure what kind of fool Edge thought he was, but he could at least manage to put 2 and 2 together and know that a vengeful fire monster who was prone to kidnappings likely matched up with fresh burns. 

Edge said nothing and that was all the answer Rus needed.

“then i think i do.” Rus drew away, wiping impatiently at his damp cheeks bones with his sleeve. “where’s the bathroom?” 

He followed where Edge pointed and one step inside was enough to stifle his remaining tears. If he thought his own lavatory was opulent, this one seemed to belong more in a palace than above a strip club in the red-light district, all of it gleaming dark marble streaked with gold. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and sighed. All his efforts to obey his brother’s scold to keep his new clothes clean ruined by smudges of soot streaked all down his shirt and a full set of handprints impressed on his shoulders. 

Welp, guess it was a good thing he probably wasn’t going to be doing the laundry.

Under the sink was a basin that he filled halfway with cool water, along with a well-appointed first aid kit. Rus snagged both along with a couple clean washcloths and clumsily carried the lot of it out, only spilling a couple splashes of water to disappear in the lush carpet. 

Edge hadn’t moved, only watched him with an intensity that sent an odd prickle down Rus’s spine. Whatever, let him stare. Rus ignored it to set his newfound supplies on the coffee table and sat on the sofa next to him to get to work. First, wetting a washcloth and very gently washing away the layers of soot to reveal the chalky, damaged bone beneath. It actually wasn’t too bad, he was relieved to see, at least Edge was right about that. Most of it was filth, the only real damage seemed to be to the very side of his face, a ragged line that ran from his forehead nearly to his chin. Edge never made a sound even when Rus had to really scrub to clear away the sooty blackness. The friction must have hurt terribly, but he allowed Rus to clean him up as he muttering vague apologies the entire time, because honestly, if he’d been the one hurt, Rus would have been howling for mercy by now.

The silence grew to be too much, nothing but the splash of water as he wrung out the cloth again and Edge’s crimson eye lights following his every move. Luckily, filling silences with nervous chatter was one of Rus’s greatest skills. 

“i’m glad the bathroom was close,” Rus admitted with a self-deprecating laugh, “if it was in the hallway, i would’ve been a while. i’m not sure if i could find anything in this labyrinth.”

“It’s not as big as it seems,” Edge’s sockets fell half-closed as Rus gingerly cleaned around the delicate, damaged rim, showing only a bare gleam of crimson. “You only think it is because of the Dogs.”

That gave Rus a pause. "what do you mean?”

Edge offered him that little half-smile of his, "The hallways are designed like a labyrinth and my brother has the Dogs lead people through the same ones several times. Even the artwork is designed to change the picture when someone walks past it, to make it seem larger and more confusing than it is.”

“seriously? what kind of low-rent james bond villain bullshit is that?" Rus blurted. He winced at his own words, shit, calling Red a villain wasn’t exactly what his brother would call good manners, but Edge's slight smile only widened. 

"I prefer the term frugal.”

“hmmph,” Rus huffed, deciding not to argue the point. If Red wanted a subplot of being a cheapskate, that was his problem. “are you going to tell me what happened?” he asked, dabbing gingerly at a particularly darkened spot. The bone beneath was slightly pitted and he could only hiss in sympathy, imagining how much it must hurt.

That little smile faded. “I went to see Blaze in a neutral location, to negotiate.”

“looks like negotiations went south.”

Edge grunted in agreement, closing his sockets entirely as Rus finished cleaning his skull with a last gentle wipe. He dropped the washcloth into the dingy basin water before digging through the first aid kit for burn ointment. With the soot cleaned away, the burns matched Edge’s assessment of not too bad. They should heal fine, probably wouldn’t even scar if Edge kept it clean and well treated. Of course, there was another option.

Rus carefully set the ointment aside, reaching out instead with a cautious bare hand, “you were right, it isn’t too bad. i’m not as good as my brother, but if you let me heal you—”

The hand that caught his wrist moved so quickly Rus barely saw it. He yelped in surprise and automatically tried to pull away. Uselessly, that grip tightened painlessly as Edge said, firmly, “No.”

Even sitting, Edge was taller than him, especially when he wasn’t slumped back on the sofa. Taller than him, larger than him in every way and even sitting here in a ridiculously lavish bedroom in his ruined suit, Edge seemed larger than life, nearly a force of nature. And Rus looked up directly into his hurt face and asked boldly, “why not?” 

The flick of his crimson tongue over his teeth nearly distracted Rus from his words. “Because having someone else use their magic on me outside of a fight is entirely too intimate for my tastes.” 

Intimate. That was the problem? Considering that Rus was in possession of a shivery memory of Edge’s weight on top of him, pressing him into the cushioned plush of the rug with the heat of the fireplace pouring over them as Edge’s gloved hand skimmed against his bare hip…um…better to stop there. Anyway, considering all that, it seemed silly to him for Edge to suffer through days of discomfort when a little healing magic could ease it. 

Exasperated, Rus pointed out, “you were willing to have sex with me but won’t let me heal you?” It was only after he said it that Rus belatedly remembered that actually, Edge _hadn’t_ been willing to have sex with him, that was sort of where their awkwardness this morning came from and he looked away, a miserable blush rising in his cheekbones, like an echo of Edge’s burns. 

To his shameful relief, Edge didn’t comment on that, only ran his thumb over the delicate, interlocked bones at the inside of Rus’s wrist. “It’s not the same. Magic involves souls, sex is only as intimate as you allow it to be. Anyone can take your body, flower shop.”

“yes, thank you for that reminder,” Rus muttered unhappily. He couldn’t hold back a shudder, remembering Blaze’s unbearably sweltering hands on him, forcing his touch on Rus as he whispered horrible things, cruelly teasing threats about Rus’s mouth and what he might do to it.

Edge’s voice jarred him from the unpleasant memory, cushioned in gentleness. “You’re safe here. This club is as well protected as it could possibly be. Aside from basic security precautions, we’ve been layering on every sort of protection spell possible over it since we got to the surface.” 

That was a comfort to know, for now. But what about when he left, they left, him and Blue heading back to their shop and their lives without an ounce of protection surrounding them. 

“i want to go home.” The words slipped out, small and miserable. And true, their home was small and a bit cramped, but it _was_ home.

“I know,” Edge said, softly. He offered no promises about getting Rus there and he wondered wanly if he should be grateful for that honesty. Rus reached up and took hold of the large hand still holding his other wrist as his gaze searched Edge’s face, eye lights skimming from the untouched side to the one stark with darkened burns. With a tug, Edge brought their joined hands to his mouth, pressing a kiss against them and murmuring, “I’m working on it.”

There was something in his voice, something coldly dark beneath that tender touch and Rus swallowed hard, “you’re going to try to kill him, aren’t you.”

“Don’t ask questions that you don’t want answered.”

“aren’t you?” Rus persisted. 

Edge let out a small frustrated sound, "It's the only way to end this. The only way you'll get your life back."

Rus shook his head, helplessly. That couldn’t be true, the only answer simply couldn’t be tainting Edge’s soul with XP, racking a LV onto Edge’s conscious in the name of their wellbeing, his and Blue’s and Rus knew without question that his brother would agree. “there has to be another way.”

“Are you willing to bet your life on that, flower shop?” Edge countered, “What about your brother’s?”

“there has to be! i can’t let you—” _kill someone_. Rus choked on the words, felt the ache of tears welling up again.

Again, that thumb rubbed a soothing little circle against Rus’s wrist. “Why do you care so much?”

“I…” Rus swallowed nervously. “it’s…it’s the right thing to do!”

“Of course,” Edge said wryly. “And you always do the right thing, don’t you.” He let go of Rus’s wrist and sank back into the cushions. “Go on, then.”

“huh?” Rus blinked, confused, ready to argue that he wasn’t about to leave with this debate still between them.

“Go on,” Edge repeated, “Heal me.” A sardonic slash of a smile tipped up the undamaged side of his mouth. “Since it’s the right thing to do.”

Oh. Rus had to kneel up to reach, leaning across Edge’s torso to settle his bare hand lightly against the side of his skull. It was a matter of moments to focus his magic, calling up the tingling warmth of healing and concentrating it on the burns. He certainly didn’t miss Edge’s relieved sigh; it must’ve hurt something awful and honestly, fussing about intimacy when the alternative was days of pain? He really couldn’t understand these people.

When Rus finally stopped, the bone beneath his hand was smooth and unblemished, at least as much as previously cracked bone could be. All signs of any burns were gone and Rus beamed at Edge, pleased.

“there,” he said triumphantly. “isn’t that bett—oh!”

The way Rus was leaning already put him off balance and the sudden, strong arm winding around his waist sent him nearly sprawling into Edge’s lap. A rough chuckle greeted his twisting and squirms until he was sitting across Edge’s femurs, looking up into his newly healed face with wide sockets.

“Yes,” Edge agreed softly, “This is much better.” He lightly bit the tip of one of his fingers, tugging off his glove and spitting it aside before reaching out to brush bare fingertips lightly over Rus’s mouth, cautious of the sharpened tips. Rus sat frozen beneath that touch as it slid lower, broad knuckles curling beneath his chin. “To tell the truth, I’m at a loss,” Edge murmured, low, like a confession. “Even if I deal with Blaze, you’re irrevocably linked to me now. Do I let it be? Or do I embrace it?”

That…that sounded…Rus wasn’t sure, his thoughts were in wild turmoil, caught up between Edge’s words and his embrace, “what about what i want?” he asked, weakly.

A soft chuckle gusted over him like a caress and Edge’s face was close to his own, as he said, “Pretty flower, you’ve wanted me since the day I walked into your shop.” 

Rus wanted to deny it, but what was the point? It was true, he couldn’t possibly have been more obvious. He didn’t move as Edge leaned in, every possible protest twittering out of his mind even as Edge said, his deep voice raw with the barest of regrets, “Just remember, I tried to let you go.” 

His mouth was achingly gentle, coaxingly sweet and Rus parted his teeth with a watery sigh as he met it with his own. Parted his teeth to timidly meet the slide of a clever tongue with his own. He was surrounded, Edge around him, beneath him, the arms that circled him held Rus close. Safe, he realized, he was _safe_ , and Rus groaned shakily, clinging to Edge’s broad chest as those dizzying kisses deepened, teeth scraping with tantalizingly deliberate roughness as a low growl rumbled out from deep within Edge’s chest. 

In the back of his mind, Rus was hyperaware of the enormous bed behind them, equal parts inviting and terrifying to consider Edge carrying him to it the same way as he had to the rug. His heavy weight again between Rus’s femurs, the hard press of his hips, and the senseless magic settling in Rus’s pelvis wanted that, wanted even more. He could feel his magic taking form, embarrassingly eager wetness dampening his undershorts. His mind might well be unsettled, but his body was making its wants known to them both and he couldn’t help wriggling again, already feeling the response of Edge’s body beneath his pelvis.

The door bursting opened shattered any burgeoning arousal and Rus jerked back, scrambling away even as Edge reluctantly let him go. 

Red didn’t even seem to notice them yet, kicking the door shut as he groused, “dogs said you and blaze got into it, bro, you okay—” he stopped, staring blankly at his brother, eye lights gliding over where Edge’s joints were flushed and his jaw clenched. Then flicking to Rus who was curled up far on the other side of the sofa with a burning blush high on his cheekbones. Red chewing on the end of his cigar furiously, saying acidly around it, “might need to have a word with ‘em, since they didn’t see fit to mention this lil’ tête-à-tête.”

“Perhaps they thought they didn’t need to,” Edge said, coolly, “There is this charming social construct called knocking, you should consider trying it sometime.”

“uh huh, you know me, all up in the social constructs.” Red turned his sour look back on Rus, who only cringed harder, “sorry to interrupt, but i’m fresh outta social constructs right now. me and my bro need to talk, hit bricks.”

Edge crossed his arms over his chest, “No, he can stay.”

Yeah, because Rus was all about hanging around Red with his magic still uncomfortably roused between his legs. “i really don’t mind, i can go.”

Neither of them paid him any mind, both brother’s glaring. Finally, Red shrugged, “i was gonna talk business, but if you wanna scar your pretty lil’ flower, ain’t no skin off my bones.”

That seemed to give Edge a pause. He frowned, considering, then sighed out, “Go, Rus.”

Rus wobbled to his feet, all ready to head for the door. Only to have Edge catch his wrist, reeling him in. He didn’t try to take a kiss, thankfully, no attempt at a little pda in front of his brother. He only studied Rus’s face as if drinking in the sight of him, then tapped him lightly on the nasal aperture as he said, sternly, “Behave.”

That made him remember that morning, sneaking downstairs to chat with the ladies in the break room. Rus gave him a wobbly nod, and said, “i always do,” hoping his guilt didn’t show on his face as he slipped away and headed towards the door. 

He skirted widely around Red and even that didn’t keep Rus from hearing him mutter, “if that’s you behavin’ flower shop, can’t wait to see ya bein’ bad.”

Outside the door one of the Dogs was waiting and Rus was about to ask them to show him back to his room, preferably without the extra mileage, when his eye lights caught on a long line of blistered redness along their muzzle.

“did you get burned, too,” Rus gasped, appalled, “that must hurt, do you want me to heal…it?” He trailed off awkwardly, expecting to be brushed off. But the Dog only whined and lowered their head, their dark brown eyes hopeful. 

The little wound was even easier to heal than Edge’s and the Dog heaved a sigh of relief when Rus was finished, offering him a slightly slobbery grin, along with something else that had been sitting unnoticed by their feet. They held it out in offering and Rus took it, uncomprehending at first until the familiar jangle made him look down in disbelief. 

It was his backpack, somewhat sooty and Spongebob was more than a little worse for wear, but it was his, with all his pins still attached.

“how did you—” Rus started, dumbly. There was only one answer and Rus glanced at the door speculatively, wondering if he’d gotten the backpack before, after, or during getting burnt to a crisp. Questions for later and he added it to his list as the Dog led him back to his room. 

The moment he opened the door, a loud shout almost sent him tumbling head over heels back out.

_“Where have you been!?”_

Rus sighed to himself and shut the door, bracing himself to face his brother. 

Where was a kidnapping when you really needed one.

* * *

tbc


	11. Chapter 11

* * *

_“Where have you been?”_

As he was shutting the door, Rus caught a glimpse of their current Dog guard. He cringed, his tail drooping to tuck between his legs and Rus had no doubt that if he had a tail of his own, he’d be doing the same thing. Blue wasn’t very tall, but he packed a lot of punch per square inch and from the bright, erratic glow of his eye lights, he was very tempted to send all that punching right in Rus’s direction. 

Rus turned to him, clutching his backpack to his chest, pins jangling and digging in. There wasn’t time to come up with a real plan and he didn’t exactly want to go with ‘hung out with strippers then ended with sitting on Edge’s lap’, so deflect, deflect, deflect it was. 

“what i was told to do,” Rus tried, “staying out of trouble. i…i was reading a book.” Hey, it was true and only left out a few key details. 

Instead of soothing his brother, Blue only seemed angrier, a hectic flush of near sapphire staining his cheekbones as he snapped out, “Reading a book?!” The last word soared up to a level of shrill that threatened to shatter the glasses on the little minibar in the corner. “Are you mad? Look at you!”

Rus glanced down at himself, shit, how could he have forgotten the state of his shirt? He looked like he’d taken on a part-time job as a chimney sweep. In a burst of inspiration, he said, “i…lit the fireplace, the room was cold.” Rus laughed, a touch raggedly. “i guess i need practice, it was harder than i thought.”

“You would have been warm enough back here!” Blue retorted. “It’s been hours! I’ve been sitting here, waiting and wondering, near out of my mind worrying! I asked the Dogs to bring me to you or to bring you back here and none of them would do a thing!”

“maybe they didn’t want to bother me. what were you doing, then?” Rus flung back, his own shamed guilt curdling into anger. He turned away from his brother’s accusing face and went to the closet, stashing his backpack roughly inside and ignoring the clothing hanging within. “red seemed to think you had something awfully important to talk about that both of you assumed i didn’t need to hear!”

Stupid of him, Rus cursed inwardly, as if he wasn’t keeping his own secrets about last night, secrets that he himself revealed existed with his foolish breakfast table apology. Rus hunched into himself as he waited for Blue to throw that one at him, wildly trying to come up with an explanation his brother would believe. Only Blue said nothing and when Rus risked a look at him, his round face was crumpled in upset.

“We do…we did! It’s not like that, Papy.” His brother took a hurt, hitched breath and his sudden misery only made Rus’s sinking guilt worse. He hated fighting with his brother, Blue always worked so hard, did so much for him, and here he was doing…what…with Edge? He wasn’t even sure, but what he did know was his brother who’d cared for him, bandaged his hurts, made sure he was properly clothed and fed since Rus was old enough to remember was near tears because of him. “Little brother, these people are—” Blue broke off, biting back whatever he’d planned to say. He scrubbed a hand over his face and Rus suddenly noticed Blue had changed his clothes into something simpler, his own clothes from the day before. Blue sighed heavily into his hands and when he dropped them from his face, he was calmer, “I was worried, that was all. I’m sorry I snapped.”

Rus swallowed hard, trying and failing to swallow away the swell of his guilt. His brother probably wasn’t wrong to be worried, but all he said was, “it’s okay, bro.” 

Seriously, of course Blue was fucking worried, two days ago someone shot up their shop, yesterday he’d been kidnapped, had it only been yesterday? It seemed so much longer, days, weeks, since he’d been tied to that chair, bruised and terrified, wondering if he was going to die. He sank down to one knee and hugged Blue, took comfort from like he couldn’t yesterday. 

His brother hugged him back, short, strong arms circling his neck, holding him tightly. Rus only vaguely remembering ever having to look up to him, he’d been taller than his big brother for ages now. Blue’s wordless murmurs of comfort became a barely audible whisper, “We mustn’t assume they can’t hear us.”

Oh. 

Rus gave him a tiny nod, felt his brother sigh as he murmured, low, “We need to stay together as much as we can, to stay safe, do you understand?”

“yeah.” That must be why Blue wasn’t questioning him about what Edge let slip this morning, he was afraid of who might overhear. Rus couldn’t help being relieved at the reprieve even as his guilt threatened to strangle him. He wasn’t used to keeping secrets from his brother, not about anything. He’d explain soon, Rus told himself, he would. First, he’d use whatever time he had to figure things out for himself. 

Blue finally pulled away, his eye lights suspiciously shimmery. “Now! Change your shirt and come along with me. Dogamy showed me something earlier that you might enjoy.”

“dogamy?” Rus asked, confused. Some of the clothes in the closet were in his size, he realized, and he hastily changed, this time a soft lavender pullover, before following Blue to the door. He tried not to think about what the sheer quantity of clothes might mean. 

Blue nodded “He’s the leader of the Dogs around here, or so they tell me.”

“So… you got to meet the top dog, huh,” Rus said teasingly.

Worth it for the way Blue grumbled out with familiar, exasperated fondness, “Don’t start. Come along, now.”

This time Blue led the way down the hallway. Neither of them looked back at the shadow they picked up, the sound of paws on carpet as their latest sentry followed along. Blue gave no sign of his discomfort past a certain stiffness in his shoulders. The trip seemed a lot shorter than any other, to a door with a strange symbol on it. Blue pushed through it and they went up an echoing concrete staircase, easily the least elegant part of the building Rus had seen so far. Probably meant for maintenance people or even in case of fire…and he stopped that thought right there, he didn’t want to be thinking of fire in any capacity for some time. 

At the top of the stairs was a heavy door with a push bar and it took both of them to push it open, but once they stepped through, out into sudden fresh air—

Well. No wonder Blue was so eager to show him. 

It was a rooftop garden, arbors of cooling greenery overhead and a winding stone path leading through overflowing planters and pillars covered in winding ivory. Rus followed the path to a bench and sat, breathing in the smell of plants and soil that he’d been missing. 

“this is nice, isn’t it,” Rus murmured. Hardly up to his brother’s standards when it came to gardens, but without the need for the high fences surrounding it. To his professional eye, it was all a bit of a hodgepodge; whoever set this up didn’t have much of a sense for design, or perhaps they simply didn’t care, and already he was itching to move things around a bit, arrange them into a more aesthetically pleasing form. 

It was no surprise that his brother seemed in agreement of that. “Nice,” Blue sniffed, “It’s so overgrown and chaotic it’s a wonder it hasn’t wandered off down the side of the building on its own! The hanging baskets need clipped back and the drainage for the roses is so poor I expect all the bushes have root rot.” His distaste brightened into determination, “but I think we can improve it.”

“ _spruce_ it up, you mean.”

“Papy,” Blue groaned, but there was laughter beneath it. Underneath the bench was small tool caddy and Blue dragged it out, snagging a pair of gloves. It seemed he meant they should work on it now and suddenly, no idea appealed more. For all that opening the shop was his brother’s idea, Rus genuinely enjoyed the work and he’d honestly been missing it. There wasn’t much he could do about the way their shop and garden were being neglected, but there was no reason to let these atrocities continue. He grabbed a pair of his own gloves, rolling up his sleeves and got to work.

By the time Rus looked up again, sweating through his shirt and aching a bit from effort, most of the containers close to the door were trimmed and weeded, and several transplants moved to where they could be both aesthetically pleasing and benefit from the sunshine. Honestly, the rainbow was all good and well, but tossing a bunch of different flowers into one pot did not an arrangement make. 

Rus peeled off his gloves as he climbed to his feet. He pressed both hands to his spine as he stretched, groaning in relief as the joints popped. A quick glance showed Blue was still hard at work, unclipping the hanging baskets to shape the unwieldy stems. Rus left him to it, wandered to the side of the building where the breeze was stronger. He braced his hands on the waist-high ledge, peering down. Past the neon glow of the sign, the street level was busy, Monsters on the sidewalk going about their business. 

The Dust Bowl was too small to allow for any empty spaces and despite the overwhelming presence of the strip club, there were plenty of shops lining the street and their products became less salacious the further away they got. No Humans were in sight, but that was no surprise. Any Humans who drove through here were seeking an extremely specific product that was sold on street corners, often invited into their cars and back to a hotel room, or at least a quick park in a deserted back alley. His brother certainly tried but he couldn’t keep all the gossip from Rus’s hearing, and he knew some Monsters were unable to get paying jobs on the surface, reduced to prostitution themselves to the Humans that so often despised them.

That made Rus think of Mona, her generous kindness and her gentle smile. He really hoped that wasn’t something she had to do, that Edge meant it when he said he took care of his people. 

Across the street something caught his eye, disrupting that line of thought. Rus frowned a little as he studied the car that was a tad too luxurious to fit in this neighborhood. It was parked across the street from the club and there was someone sitting in the driver’s seat, though he couldn’t make out anything about them from the distance. Not one of Edge’s people, he was sure, they’d have gone into the parking garage, so who— 

*We know it’s there.*

Startled, Rus whirled around with a choked gasp. The Dog that followed them up here was behind him. None of the Dogs had ever spoken to him before but there was no mistaking that woofy accent.

“you know?” Rus asked uncertainly.

The Dog nodded, impatiently brushing back a floppy ear that fell over one eye. *Stay in the club, pup. Safe here.*

“i…yes, i will,” Rus stammered out. He turned away from that ominous car and looked back out at the rooftop, at the plants they were working so hard on. “but. is it really safe up here? couldn’t they hurt—” _Us_ “…the garden? i mean…all right, this sounds ridiculous, but i’m not sure, a bomb? like a molotov cocktail, i’ve seen movies.”

Dogs couldn’t properly laugh, but this one’s tongue lolled out in a doggish grin. *Not Blaze, too blunt, no finesse. Couldn’t anyway.*

He stepped up to the ledge and held out a paw, gestured patiently for Rus to do the same. He did, confused, pressing out as though pushing an invisible wall and when his hand reached the edge of the building, he stopped with a startled cry. There was nothing to see, but he could feel the buzz of protective magic and the fierce intent behind it.

“spells,” Rus murmured. Edge did mention they’d been weaving plenty of protective spells over the club.

*Yes, many,* the Dog agreed. *Keep you safe, pup.*

Pup, honestly, now there was yet another nickname that he did not need. 

“i do have a name,” Rus said, exasperated, 

*Yes.* Another doggish laugh. *Flower shop.*

“oh, for—” Rus laughed himself, helplessly, “rus, you can call me rus.”

*Rus,* the Dog said agreeably. He didn’t offer a name of his own and Rus didn’t press. Obviously, he hadn’t reached Blue’s level of rank with the dogma around here. Something to strive for. 

Rus went back into the garden proper, casting a last uncomfortable look back at that car and the watcher inside. They really were trapped in here, Rus thought unhappily. Little wildflowers plucked from their freedom and tucked into a pretty vase and the very idea of once again being imprisoned after a lifetime underground chafed, this time to a much smaller area even if they could still see the sunshine.

Trapped, and there wasn’t a thing Rus could do about it. 

Instead, he snatched up his gloves again and got back to work. Rus didn’t have his brother’s skills with growing, but he liked to think he brought his own talents to the party. Time passed and Rus was finishing up trimming a bed of lovely but overgrown miniature roses when a voice spoke up behind him.

“You two have been busy.”

Rus tried to whirl around and stand in the same motion and instead toppled off his perch on the side of the planter to the ground with a painful thump. 

“honestly, what is with you people always creeping up on me!” Rus grumbled, casting a glare in the direction of his frightener. Edge, who was standing by one of the arbors and likely had been for some time, stalker that he was proving himself to be. 

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Edge said, not quite contrite. 

“you…you didn’t.” As if his soul wasn’t hammering in his rib cage. Then it throbbed wildly for another reason entirely. Edge must have showered, and he’d changed out of the sooty wreck of his suit into tight slacks and another crimson button up shirt. Only this one was undone halfway down his sternum, showing off a wealth of scarred collarbone and ribs that seemed to point in the direction of his sleek belt buckle and lower. He looked casually posh and temptingly handsome. 

And here Rus was, sweaty, unwashed, and probably filthy from face to foot.

Angel have mercy.

Rus scrambled to his feet, rubbing at his poor, abused tailbone in awkward flusterment. Welp, if you couldn’t go for pizzazz, may as well go for bluster. “your garden isn’t in very good shape, you should find a new gardener. maybe try one who’s seen a plant once or twice before you hire them on.”

Edge glanced around them as though the garden just sprung up in that moment and he was only now noticing, “To be honest, I hardly remembered this was up here.”

“don’t let blue hear you say that,” Rus warned, “he nearly wept when he saw the state of your roses.” The poor things were in awful shape and Rus was very sure he’d heard his brother muttering words he hadn’t even thought Blue knew under his breath. Rus looked down at the ones he’d been tending to; the sweet-smelling blossoms with curled velvety petals were hardly larger than a knucklebone, “you seem to like your roses.”

“I do like certain flowers.” The words were much closer than expected and Rus looked up, newly startled to find standing Edge right next to him, the sneak, so close Rus could see the faint sparks crackling in his eye lights as he slowly ducked his head. Rus knew it was coming and somehow still couldn’t brace himself for the feel of Edge’s mouth against his own, coaxingly soft. 

Oh. Oh, this was—he couldn’t _think_ , not with Edge so close to him, the smell of him, the heat of his body, his mouth. Rus swallowed down a whimper, tipping his head up and let his teeth part. There was a flicker of a tongue over his own, coyly enticing, and Rus followed the invitation, shyly exploring Edge’s mouth with his own, tasting the heady spice of magic and desire. 

That mouth began to draw away far too soon and Rus would have chased it, frantically rising up on his toes as it slipped out of reach, desperate for more. Would have, if strong hands hadn’t caught his shoulders and a low chuckle dragged him back to embarrassing reality. 

“Eager, are we?” Edge husked out. It took far too long for his meaning to register, long enough for him to cup Rus’s face in a large hand, his gloved thumb brushing away what was probably a smudge of dirt from his cheekbone. 

“you--!” Rus sputtered, but all his indignance faltered, fading, when he caught sight of his brother. 

Blue was looking at them, white-faced and grim, and his sockets were empty caves of blackness. 

_Fuck._

Edge followed his look, catching sight of Blue before he turned away and stormed off the furthest corner of the garden, and frowned. “You haven’t told him anything about us, have you.”

There was an understatement. “i wasn’t sure what there was to tell,” Rus admitted, too soft.

“That’s a discussion all its own. Don’t keep secrets from your brother,” Edge said, “You have nothing to be ashamed about.”

Something about the confidence in that roused Rus’s indignance again. Honestly, Edge hardly knew him and certainly didn’t know a thing about Blue, and here he was, making blanket statements like that. As if he knew a thing about shame. Tartly, Rus asked, “you’re so sure about that?”

“Yes,” Edge said, a low, amused rumble. “There’s no shame in giving in to the inevitable.” 

“inevita—" Rus gasped. Of all the arrogant, conceited…! “you don’t even know my name!”

“No? Talk to your brother, tell him the truth.” Edge’s humor went suddenly grim. “Once you get into the habit of keeping secrets, it’s difficult to break it.”

That was enough to cool some of Rus’s roused temper. He suspected Edge was speaking from experience. But then, his brother was Red. Who wouldn’t want to keep secrets from him? Blue was another story; how could he even begin to make his brother understand that in a way this _did_ feel inevitable. He hardly knew Edge, he certainly didn’t approve of his business, and yet, Rus was helplessly drawn to him for reasons he wasn’t sure he could articulate, much less in a way Blue would believe. “that’s easy for you to say.”

“All you have to do is say the words, flower shop,” Edge said. Then, briskly, “Now, I came up here to see if you were hungry. Breakfast was some time ago.”

As if waiting for the perfect moment to embarrass him, his magic chose that moment to give a ravenous sort of growl.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Edge chuckled. “Would you rather eat dinner in your room or with my brother and I?”

Talked about choosing between the devil and the deep blue sea. “with you,” Rus sighed. At least if dinner was with the devil, it gave him a little time to figure out how to flounder in the deep water. 

Edge nodded, unsurprised, “Come on, then, we’ll get your brother together.”

A large hand settled at the base of his spine, warmth bleeding through his thin shirt as Edge guided him along. Rus gulped, but didn’t protest. 

His brother loved him, Rus told himself, he did, Blue always took care of him. They’d figure this out.

* * *

tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're enjoying this story, please do let me know!
> 
> Also, how bad do we want things to get here for sweet lil' Rus? How far down the rabbit hole we going? 🤔


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much everyone for all your lovely comments! Vote seems to be for poor little Rus to get in a little more suffering, hmmmmm, pardon my maniacal laugh.

* * *

His confidence in his brother’s love didn’t exactly take a hit on the way downstairs to dinner, but it did give a wobbly sort of jiggle when Blue didn’t say a word to him. Not on the way down, but maybe that was because Edge was right there, Rus told himself. The silence lingered as they stopped off at small washroom to clean up, but that was even worse as a place to chat, adding in the echo of the water running from the fancy taps running into the basin to fill the room along with their Edge-shaped chaperone. 

Blue didn’t say a thing aside from faint noises of acknowledgement as Edge made politely chitchat and led them back to the dining room, Rus trailing behind them.

Honestly, Rus hadn’t really thought a meal could be more awkward than breakfast that morning and he was rather unhappy about being proven wrong. Sure, Edge was unfailingly polite, even pulling Rus’s chair out for him like they were on a date in a fancy restaurant. And the food looked delicious when the Dogs brought it out in courses, a creamy tomato soup and salad before a delicate pasta dish, and a sweet orange and honey sorbet for dessert that should’ve had Rus licking the dish clean. 

But it could have been a bowl of fried sawdust for all Rus tasted it. For the first time ever, he found himself missing his brother’s somewhat dubious meals. Maybe his recipe for spam fried rice wasn’t gonna land on any Michelin star restaurant menu, and it didn’t taste like the sweet frozen dreams of the sorbet, but the heaps of love that flavored it helped, a lot, more than Rus ever realized.

Guilt was a lot less tasty, Rus found, sitting penny-sharp on the back of his tongue and refusing to be swallowed away. His brother was mostly quiet, picking at his own plate and hardly taking a bite. Even odder, so was Red. Quiet, anyway, he cleared his plate without hesitation, but didn’t say much, and he kept giving Blue little sideways looks. If Rus didn’t know better, he’d almost say the mean old gargoyle was concerned, if there was room in the shriveled, leathery pouch that passed for his soul.

Edge said little, too, his eye lights flicking only briefly to their brothers, and that didn’t exact make Rus eager to drum up any conversation about the newest season of ‘The Umbrella Academy’ on Netflix. In the end, the silence was mostly broken only by the soft clatter of silverware against china, and the Dogs as they cleared it all away.

Rus idly stirred the bright stripe of honeyed syrup into his sorbet, forced himself to take another creamy mouthful. He wondered if the leftovers would find their way downstairs again, if that was the norm or if it were only for special occasions, like a pair of unexpected ‘guests’. Maybe Mona and her co-workers would get a chance to try a little of that pasta, standing around together laughing as they enjoyed some decent food before they went out on the stage. He hoped so, hoped that after a day of their sort of work, they had a treat at the end of the day. Meanwhile, all he had to show for his efforts today was a little healing and a lot of gardening. It was something, he supposed. 

For all his past fantasies of interesting places out further in the world, out in some wonderous, mythical place where Humans didn’t look at him like they’d rather he was dust to brush off their shoes, Rus found he was missing the shop. If he’d thought his days were a little repetitive, now he recalled the simplicity of it wistfully; days of designing floral arrangements in complimentary colors, chatting with the customers who wandered in, and making up little backstories for them in his head, idle little daydreams to pass the time. All that silliness and he couldn’t have guessed how far off he was on Edge’s story, winced inwardly to even think of his past assumptions, funeral director, really? Of course, if Red ever set foot in his store, instead of any mental storytelling, he probably would have been discreetly reaching for the can of hornet spray his brother kept under the registers. You know, just in case. 

Almost the moment Rus finally set his dessert spoon into his little empty dish, Blue was on his feet, politely wiping his mouth on his napkin, “Well, thank you ever so much for dinner, but I think my brother and I are going to have an early night.”

“yeah, sure, gotta get your rest, baby blue,” Red said easily. He slouched back in his chair, his bony fingers laced together over his broad middle. “gonna have a busy day tomorrow.”

“what…?” Rus started, confused. The rooftop garden wasn’t in that poor condition, was it? He wouldn’t have believed Blue’s expression could get any tighter until it did and Red didn’t wait for Rus to come up with a better question, only eased down from his chair, the wood creaking as it was relieved of his weight, and slouched out a side door that led who knows where in this maze of rooms. 

The moment that door closed, Blue turned on his heel and headed for the other one, saying shortly, “Brother, let’s go.”

He went out without waiting, the door swinging shut behind him, and Rus sighed inwardly as he headed after him. Only to squeak in surprise as he was suddenly spun around, Edge pushing him gently back against the closed door, not quite pinning him there with firm hands at his shoulders. His crimson eye lights were a steady glow, not a flame so much as a softly burning coal, and his deep voice sent a shiver down Rus’s spine as he said, teasingly, “Aren’t you going to say good night?”

“good night?” Rus parroted, dumbly, and honestly, at some point he was going to managed to keep his wits about him with Edge so close. Today was not that day and could only stare up with wide sockets as the corner of Edge’s mouth rose in a faint smile. He was so close, close enough to see the slight crow’s-wing shadow on his cheek bone from his injury earlier, imperfectly healed. 

He leaned down and Rus’s soul pounded so loudly he could hear it throbbing inside his skull, wondered wildly if Edge could hear it, too. But instead of kissing him, Edge only murmured right next to his auditory canal, “Sleep well, pretty flower shop boy.”

It took a second for that to register and when it did, Rus made a face, scrunching up his nasal nodule at that addition to his new nickname. Not that it mattered, his cottony thoughts weren’t able to come up with a decent protest. His skull felt like a heavy sunflower atop a too-narrow stem as he gave a wobbly nod, biting back a protest as Edge drew back. He didn’t try to kiss Rus, only ran a gentle finger down his jawline, his gloved finger velvety soft.

“you don’t want me to--?” Rus trailed off weakly, unsure what he even meant to ask. Stay? Go to his room with him? The words eluded him and finally Edge made the choice for him, not at all the one Rus expected or wanted.

“Go talk to your brother,” Edge chided. Rus winced, looking down, and he was right, of course he was, he and Blue hadn’t really talked since they got here. His secrets were getting revealed in the worst ways possible and he honestly needed to explain to his brother before he got the wrong idea. He nodded again, unhappily, and when he dared to peek up again Edge’s expression was softened. His voice dropped to a low rumble as he murmured, “Besides, there’s no reason to be hasty, is there? Some things are more delectable when enjoyed slowly.”

The lazy curl of his tongue behind his fierce teeth as the word delectable rolled off it was terribly distracting, _oh, holy angel, help me._

“i…i should…” Rus’s own stupid tongue could barely form simple words, much less multiple syllables, why couldn’t he even think properly? Why was Edge so…so…

“Go,” Edge told him, softly, and Rus did, stumbling out after his brother. Who was waiting in the hallway and if his expression had been cool at the dinner table, now it was positively frozen.

“Come on,” Blue said, low, and Rus followed him through the hallways, trusting his brother to know the way and keeping meekly at his heels until they were at their room. 

The moment the door closed behind them, Rus started, “bro, let me explain.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Blue loosened his tie, tossing it across the back of the loveseat and that carelessness took Rus aback almost as much as his words. It wasn’t at all what Rus expected, dull-edged and exhausted, and he faltered. He’d been braced for his brother’s temper, his disappointment, any number of things, but not this empty resignation.

“what? of course it matters, bro.” Rus hesitated, glancing around the room as he remembered Blue’s worries about being overheard, and yeah, he trusted Red about as far as he could toss the bastard, and Rus was pretty sure he couldn’t even lift him. “okay, come on.”

He didn’t give Blue a chance to protest, caught hold of his hand and dragged him into the bathroom, closing the door behind them. Then he turned on all the taps to full blast, steam rising from the shower and the basin as the water roared. “there!” Rus said triumphantly, “you were worried about people listening in, now no one can hear us.”

The room was getting warm fast, and maybe that helped melt a little of the iciness still on his brother’s face. Blue looked around, nodding a little, “That’s actually quite clever.”

“i saw it in a movie once,” Rus took a deep, shaky breath, “okay, now, let me explain.”

“What does it matter?” Blue sank down to sit on the shaggy rug in front of the vanity, wrapping his arms around his knees as his sockets fell closed, hiding his starry eye lights as he said, dully, “I’ve already lost you. I tried so hard to keep you safe, but I couldn’t—I failed you.”

“what?” Rus spluttered. This wasn’t going at all like he’d expected, somehow managing to be even worse than any of his pained imaginings, “no, you—bro, just listen, please!”

Blue only shook his head, asking low and raw, “How long have you been sleeping with him?”

“i’m not!” The ‘yet’ seemed to hang between them, unspoken but not unheard. Heat bloomed in Rus’s cheek bones, bright with embarrassed shame.

“Is that where you disappeared to that first night?” Blue accused. His sockets flared open as he scrambled to his feet and there was the anger Rus expected. Except not, this wasn’t the familiar exasperation at his schoolyard troubles or his messy habits, those had no place in the cold fury in his brother’s expression, or in the acid of his voice as he asked, “Off to bed down with him, is that it?” 

“we didn’t!” But the taste of guilt was thick in his throat, that had been his intention, hadn’t it? Did it even matter when Edge was the one to turn him away? “it… didn’t…wait, this is getting twisted around, you don’t understand!”

“What’s to understand? That you somehow got involved with that…person…and then dragged me and our shop in with it!” Blue heaved in a ragged breath, bursting out, “You should’ve known better from the start, this isn’t what we need!” He waved a hand at the bathroom, the opulent mirror fogged, the many showerheads pouring a wasteful waterfall down the drains. “All this flash and nonsense! We’ve always had each other, you and I, I always tried to teach you to be better and now you’ve brought this down on us!”

It was so unfair, Rus was near speechless, thick tears clogging in his throat and sockets. “it’s not like that!” he croaked. Then cringed at the scathing glare his brother sent towards him, and he’d never been so angry before, never, why…? 

“Are you suggesting I imagined his tongue down your throat?” Blue said, so terribly cold and now the tears were burning, brimming threateningly, his soul pounding achingly with every word.

“no, but—”

“They’re criminals, all of them!” Blue snarled, “Every Monster here! Criminals! Stars only knows how much dust is on their hands!”

Rus couldn’t even protest that, he didn’t know, he could only dig for his own accusations, thin and shrill, “that didn’t stop you from making deals with them! your oh, so, important work tomorrow that you need to rest up for!”

“I am trying to get us out with our store and souls intact,” Blue said bitterly. “What sort of deal are you trying to make that involves spreading your knees? You’re so eager to be used up and tossed aside, I hope at least it pays well!”

Rus could only stare down at his brother in shock as tears welled in his sockets, spilling over in hot trails down his cheek bones, watching as Blue’s anger dimmed, remorse setting in, “Little brother, I—”

No. He couldn’t listen anymore, couldn’t stand here and hear his brother’s hatefulness. Rus closed his burning sockets and willed himself away. 

The little breakroom downstairs was darkened and empty, all the gaiety of earlier drained away. Rus stumbled out of his shortcut over to a corner, sinking down to bury his face into his upraised knees, and if his thoughts were clouded earlier, now they were positively lost. 

What was he supposed to do? His brother hated him right now and surely Blue would forgive him, (please, oh please), but a lifetime of trust between them was damaged by his foolish secrets, those bitter words still echoing in his skull. Used up, tossed aside, and he could hear Blaze’s crackling voice as he told him that once the Fells got sick of their toys, they broke them. 

_Idiot, careless, useless idiot,_ and that cold, inner voice wasn’t Blue, but their Pop, idiot, idiot, he always said, and it was true, wasn’t it. Here they were with everything they’d worked so hard for spiraling the drain and Rus was still caught up in the misty fantasy, letting it carry him along like a toy boat in a stream, only eventually the river would peter out and leave him stranded out alone in the vast ocean.

He couldn’t count on Edge to take care of him forever. He’d get sick of Rus eventually, probably soon. Once he figured out Rus wasn’t anything close to as interesting as he’d first thought, Edge would cast him aside, and the only question was whether it was before or after he and his brother kept their promises. Even if they did, were he and Blue going to be able to step back into their shop, work together as brothers without this hanging between them?

He didn’t know and Rus curled up tightly, muffling his sobs as he cried, and wishing desperately that he’d never sold Edge that first single red rose.

* * *

tbc


	13. Interlude #3: Bartering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rus fled after his argument with Blue, leaving his brother behind to try to pick up the pieces. Blue has already been forced to choose between the devil and the deep blue sea, what other deal might he have to make?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for implications of prostitution.

* * *

“Wait!” Blue cried. Too late, far too late, his little brother was already gone, stepped into one of those shortcuts of his that Blue usually appreciated, relieved that his brother could easily escape from any awful confrontations. He hadn’t used that particular skill against Blue since he’d been a frustrated child, chafing at the limits Blue put on his wandering in the Underground. He’d never needed to, until now, and Blue sank to sit again on the bathroom rug, burying his skull in his hands and struggling to breathe through the heavy, steamed air from the still running shower.

Stupid, Blue thought tiredly. Blaming Papy for his own idiocy, taking out the frustrations he didn’t dare let loose anywhere else on his undeserving little brother. Papy was so sweet and kind, still clinging to some of his naivety even in this unwelcoming Human world; how could Blue ever have expected him to handle someone like that Edge fellow? If Red made him deeply uncomfortable and fearful, then Edge was so much worse. Red at least he understood, he knew what that brother wanted of him, product and sex, in that order, and once he got it, Red would dismiss them out of hand, hopefully without leaving too many scars behind. 

Edge held mysteries behind that polite demeanor of his and Blue rather wished either he was taller or Edge was a great deal shorter, because he would have liked a good look in the large skeleton’s eye lights, trying to read exactly what was hidden within them. If only he simply wanted sex from Papy, that at least would only break his brother’s heart. Blue was far more worried about the state of his soul. 

And then he went and gave stabbing through it himself a good try, Blue thought glumly. The brief, bitter satisfaction of watching his words strike home was almost immediately swamped by horrified regret as his little brother’s expression crumpled, the first tears falling. Blue couldn’t know how much truth any of his accusations held, but even if they were, Papy didn’t deserve that. Not when Blue well knew how easy it was to make mistakes.

He really was just like their father, blaming others for his blunders—no.

No, it was this place. He needed to get them out of here, away from the Fells, any way that he could.

Blue dragged himself upright and to the shower, reaching inside to turn off the taps and barely wincing as steaming hot water soaked through his shirt. He felt brittle and exhausted, had since late this afternoon when the weight of cameras watching him grow golden flowers became too much to bear. An uncaring mechanical eye watching as he did the very thing he’d promised himself he wouldn’t by getting involved with this sort of people. It brought back too many memories of living in the Underground and doing whatever it took to support him and his brother after their father…well…after he was gone. 

He’d sworn he wouldn’t do such things again, made a promise to himself when they came to the surface and knowing he was breaking it left him nauseous, sickened by his own deceit. In the end, Blue filled most of the planting boxes in that room until it became too much, claustrophobia swarming over him, dimming his vision even as his gorge rose. He’d nearly staggered out the door and begged the guard outside to take him for some fresh air. 

The Dog, Dogamy, he later learned, did so with some haste, perhaps worried that Blue was about to vomit on his very nice shoes. Instead of bringing him downstairs or to a handy window, Dogamy led him up to the rooftop and both the fresh air and the small garden was a blessing. Something to take his mind off of what he was doing in that closed off little room and when he’d finally brought Papy back upstairs with him, Blue could almost pretend this was why they were here, tending to an overgrown garden for some wealthy benefactor and soon they’d go back to their own little house and plants, back to their simpler life of flowers and hard work.

Then he’d looked up to see his brother and Edge kissing, and his meager daydream shattered. 

Blue felt far too old for his years as he shuffled back out into the bedroom, stripping off his sopping shirt and tossing it into the discreet hamper next to the closet. The closet itself held plenty of clothes, far too many for what was only supposed to be a short stay here, and a brief pang of worry tightened in his chest as he wondered about their closed shop slowly losing their regular customers, his garden overgrown and going to seed without his care.

He shook it away. It didn’t matter, they’d managed before and they could do it again. Nothing mattered but keeping his brother safe. 

Blue chose one of the shirts in his size at random, forced to yank it down and leaving the hanger at an awkward angle. He shrugged into it, buttoning it up as he made his way to the loveseat to sit and wait. 

And wait. Hours passed and his brother did not return while the heavy weight of worry and regret nesting in Blue’s soul hatched into something closer to panic. He’d been angry and even cruel, but surely Papy wouldn’t hold a grudge for the entire night…would he? Either he was too angry or hurt to return, or he’d gotten himself into trouble and Blue couldn’t bear to wait any long to see which it was. He only hoped he wasn’t making another reckless decision based on his worries.

Opening the door revealed one of the seemingly endless supply of the Fell brothers’ Dog guards. This one had large, floppy ears and a mottled patch of white around one of their soulful brown eyes. They looked at Blue curiously as he stepped out and said, firmly, “I need to see Red.”

He didn’t know what orders they’d been given but the Dogs who wouldn’t take him to look for his brother yesterday readily took him to Red, leading him down the corridor with none of their ridiculous backtracking and fuss of before. Not that it ever fooled Blue, he prided himself as being something of an expert at puzzles, but it wouldn’t do to tip his hand about that. Let the Fells think him lost in their silly little maze, they could gape in astonishment if ever he needed to make a quick escape. 

The room he was led to was the same one he’d first seen here, Red’s office. Only this time, that enormous desk was covered in scattered papers and Red sitting behind it looked harried for once. His jacket was gone, tossed over the back of one of the sofas, his tie raggedly loosened, and there was a teacup at his elbow that he loudly slurped from, not the whisky glass Blue was growing accustomed to seeing in his hand, and honestly, why did these people insist on dressing up so much in their own home? 

A glance back at his current guard confirmed that the Dog was wearing a fine suit of its own, honestly, everyone here dressed like they’d gotten a clearance deal on leftover costumes from the set of ‘Goodfellas’. That was one of Papy’s favorite movies, scrounged from the dump years ago and it made it to the surface with them for occasional re-watching. Perhaps that should have been a clue for Blue from there, a premonition of the sort of trouble his brother would be wont to find. 

Then again, Blue was acutely aware that the clothes he was wearing weren’t his own. None of the clothing in that large closet was any he’d’ve chosen on his own, but even he could reluctantly admit they were flattering. This one was almost too cutesy for his tastes with its billowy sleeves and pale, delicate floral pattern, but he had no doubt he wore it well. 

Not that it helped in the slightest. Red only barely glanced up from his paperwork, the first Blue had seen in this place aside from his own contract, reluctantly signed even as he wondered precisely what sort of devil he’d made a deal with. 

“whatcha want now?” Red asked brusquely, shuffling a clumsy stack of papers to the side, “wanna whine about our deal again? gonna have to wait until morning, i got other things to handle aside from you.”

“My brother is missing,” Blue said, bluntly. That was enough to at least get Red to look at him, brow bones raised. “We argued and he…left,” Blue finished, lamely. He hardly wanted to explain to Red what they’d argued about, “and I’m worried about him, I’m sure he didn’t leave the building but—” Left unspoken was that surely Papy didn't need to leave the club to find trouble.

Red’s sharky teeth curved into a sly grin. He slouched back in his chair and it creaked ominously under his shifting weight, "lost him, already, huh. how many times you expect me to play fetch with your boy?"

"Woof!" Blue snapped, too harried to care about irritating this…this…but Red’s grin only widened, his deep crimson eye lights gleaming.

"heh, cute.” His gaze shifted to the Dog. “doggerel, g'wan and check downstairs, kid snuck down yesterday to hang out with the morning shift.” Red’s expression soured as he added, “may as well tell edge, if you shitstains haven’t gone behind my back and done it already. he’ll pitch a fit if ya don’t.”

It was on the tip of Blue’s tongue to protest telling Edge anything, but instead he only sputtered out, “Downstairs! He was down there yesterday with all those horrible people??”

A sudden coldness abruptly dropped over Red’s face like a storm cloud. “might wanna watch what ya say about our downstairs personnel. they work fuckin’ hard, don’t need the likes of you judgin’ ‘em.”

“What?” Blue said, aghast, and shook his head, “I don’t mean the ladies, they’re perfectly lovely, do you know how often I’ve delivered flowers here? I mean the patrons!” He shivered helplessly. “I don’t even like to think what that sort would do to my brother, please, you need to—”

“calm your tits, it ain’t like he snuck out on the stage to shake his ass.” But some of the cold tension in his expression eased. Red jerked his chin at the dog, who nodded and went back out. Which left the two of them alone, again, and that was not something that ever seemed to end well, in Blue’s opinion.

“this wasn’t part of our deal, ya know,” Red pointed out lazily. “already found your bro once on my dime, now we’re gettin’ greedy.” He stood and came from behind the desk, sitting instead on the leather love seat. His bulk took up more than his fair share, but then, he didn’t invite Blue to sit next to him. Rather, he spread his knees wide in silent, obscene invitation, smoothing a hand along the inner seam of his trousers with his rings glimmering against the dark material. “whatcha gonna give me for this, baby blue?”

Blue took a deep breath, calming the thin tremor that quivered through his soul. He’d known this was a possibility from the start, braced for it before he’d ever left that borrowed bedroom. He lifted his chin and said, stoutly, “Whatever it takes to keep my brother safe.”

He stepped forward boldly without another word, dropping to his knees on the plush carpet and reached up to scrabbled roughly at Red’s belt as he tried to work up a little moisture in his suddenly dry mouth before there were complaints about his sandpapery tongue. He could do this, Blue told himself, it was to help his brother, he could do this, do anything for Papy, anything at all, and he never needed to know what Blue had done, never, even as his own hypocrisy burned acrid on the back of his tongue.

But before he could even manage the shiny buckle, hands took a rough hold of his wrists, stopping him. 

Startled, Blue looked up, “What--?”

Red never seemed to lose that smirk of his, but now it was more lopsided, startlingly reminiscent of Edge, and never had he and Red looked so much like brothers. “stand up, baby blue. keepin’ little bros safe is free of charge.”

“I pay my debts,” Blue said, low, even as he wondered wildly why he was arguing in favor his own defilement. Red only gave him a withering look, reaching inside his vest pocket for a fat cigar. He popped a wooden match alight with the sharpened tip of his thumb and the pungent smell of smoke filled the air. 

“i don’t need to barter for sex, honey,” Red said in a cloudy exhale. “you wanna pay me back, you just make sure you stick to our deal.” He leaned in suddenly, cigar held well away in one hand as his mouth barely brushed the side of Blue’s skull in a low murmur, “when ya finally get on your knees for me, ya gonna be beggin’ me to be there.”

“I’d love to see you try,” Blue said unthinkingly. It earned him a startled laugh even as he quailed inwardly. 

“oh, sweetheart, ya never let me down.” Red drew back and offered him that wider grin. “gonna try, fer sure, that’s a bone-ified promise.” He set a hand in the middle of Blue’s chest and gave him a light shove, sending him toppling on his backside as Red stood and went back to the desk. “now get out, the dogs’ll bring your bro back to ya when they find ‘im.”

Blue wobbled to his feet, already heading for the door. He hesitated there, uncertainly, he should be grateful for what he’d gotten, he should flee with all due haste and yet, he could help a soft, heartfelt, “Thank you.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, the door closing softly behind him as he fled. There wasn’t a Dog in sight, hopefully they were all searching for his brother, and Blue headed back to their room alone. He was halfway there when he realized, a niggling, absent thought in the back of his skull suddenly coming clear. The teacup he’d been drinking from; when Red leaned in, beneath the layer of cigar smoke, he’d smelled like golden flower tea. Why would he be drinking his own profits? It made no sense, or none that Blue could make of it. 

That didn’t matter, not right now, he could worry at that sore spot later. For now, all he wanted was his brother back with him, as safe as circumstances allowed. He hoped fervently it wouldn’t take long.

* * *

tbc


	14. Chapter 14

* * *

Rus didn’t remember falling asleep and when he woke to the furtive whispers around him, enough time had passed that his joints were aching from being curled into the corner, his sockets itchy with the remnants of tears encrusted around them. He recoiled from the sudden light filling the room, burying his face into his updrawn knees as he cringed away from the tittering voices above him.

“…who do you think…”

“…even get in here…”

“…such a cutie, don’t call the bouncer, sweet thing can’t mean any harm…”

“Mona, isn’t this one of yours?”

That name registered through his foggy thoughts and Rus jerked, looking up into the half-circle of unfamiliar Monster faces surrounding him, Buns and Cats and Lizards, each one heavy with eye shadow and lipstick, dusted in flecks of glitter that flashing in the overhead light. 

One figure pushed through the rest, and Rus could have cried in relief as he recognized Mona, her long ears drooping in concern. She crouched down, her thin robe hanging open over a tight-cinched corset and her breasts threatening to overflow from their confinement. She made an impatient shooing gesture at the others. “Go on, now, all of you, I’ll take care of him.” 

The others filed out reluctantly, their heels clicking on the tile floor. The strip club break room, Rus abruptly recalled, he’d shortcutted down here thoughtlessly, only wanting to get away from Blue and his anger. Remembering the accusations his brother had thrown at him made renewed tears well in his aching sockets and Mona made a concerned sound, her hand hovering close to him but not touching. 

“Honey,” she said, gently, “what are you doing down here?” Her kind gaze sharpened, moving over his tearstained cheekbones. “You in some kind of trouble, sweetheart?” Something in her voice implied heavily that if he were, she had a thing or three to say about it. 

“no,” Rus croaked out. He was, but it wasn’t anything Mona could help him with. “just…arguing with my brother.” 

Mona sank back on her bright red heels, relief flickering over her pretty face as she laughed, “Oh, is that all? Me and my sisters, we fight like sabretooth tigers, but we still love each other to bits! It’ll be all right, sugar, you’ll see.”

Despite her clothes, her reassurance was motherly sweet. But Rus wasn’t so sure she was right. If life Aboveground taught him anything, it was that he couldn’t depend on the kindness of strangers, none of them had much to spare, not even other Monsters. 

Maybe not even brothers. 

The thought left him weary and Rus shifted, starting to painfully uncurl his way out of the corner, wincing as his joints grumbled in protest. “sorry, i shouldn’t be here, i’ll get out of the way.” He had no idea where he might go, only a vaguely formed thought of heading back upstairs to the room with the books to sleep on one of the leather sofas for the night. 

Mona only shook her head, her ears tousling around her slim shoulders. “There’s no rush.” She snagged a worn cushion from the shabby sofa and sat on it next to Rus, her long, bare legs curled underneath her. When she held out a slender arm in offering, Rus wavered for only a moment before he gave in, leaning into her gentle embrace. She smelled sweetly floral, almost like Blue and renewed tears pricked Rus’s sockets. “We can sit here awhile, honey, I don’t start my shift for a little bit yet. I’m early, came over right from class to help the other gals get ready.”

“you take classes?” Rus asked, eager for any kind of distraction. 

“Sure do. Studying to be a nurse.” An unexpectedly cynical note dropped into her light voice as her long nails scraped soothingly over Rus’s skull. “Monsters need all the medical staff they can get, not like the Humies are too eager to have us in their hospital wings.”

Everyone in the city had a story, Rus knew, some more interesting than others, and like Edge, Mona’s was not at all what he’d been expecting. Unlike Edge, it was very easy to see Mona working as a nurse, caring for her patients as kindly as she was Rus. Her slim fingers kept stroking lightly over Rus’s bare skull, easing his lingering headache. He sighed, pushing into her touch, “i think you’ll be an excellent nurse.”

“Aw, you sweetheart!” Mona exclaimed. She pressed a light kiss against his skull and Rus told himself to make sure he wiped away any lipstick stains when he had the chance. “I sure hope so. Classes are expensive and it was hard to get a job that’ll pay for it, until I came here.” Her voice rose, consonants sharpening into defiance, “Some people think its trashy and maybe it is. Sure, I take my clothes off for money, but I know that this is a safe place to work. The bouncers keep any of the customers from getting handsy and there’s cots where we can sleep in the back room if we’re nervous about heading home before daylight.”

She sighed softly, her hand working its gentle way down to Rus’s cervical vertebra. “The only girls I worry about are the ones making money on the side. The boss can’t stop them, of course, but he can’t protect them if they go off on their own. Customers who seem like nice fellas at the bar can get rough on their own, if you know what I mean. Better to keep it in house.”

“it doesn’t bother you?” Rus couldn’t help asking. He thought of being out on that stage, exposed to the hungry stare of the people in crowd, and shivered. It reminded him a bit of Blaze whispering to him in hazy flame-speak, cruel words about his pretty mouth as burning hands moved painfully over him. “the way the customers…are?”

Mona shrugged, jostling Rus against her side. “If I were on the street any one of those assholes could catcall me, grab at me, and all I could do is run. When I’m up there dancing? I’m the one with the power. It’s my body and they can look but not touch.” Her philosophical tone darkened. “Still gotta be careful, though. Once you decide to sell any part of yourself, some guys think it's all up for grabs and all that’s left is haggling over the price.”

Haggling over the price. Was that what he and Edge were doing now?

_You’re so eager to be used up and tossed aside, I hope at least it pays well!_

Rus shuddered, burying his face into Mona’s shoulder and breathing her floral perfume again. She was taking care of herself, earning her own money without having to depend on mysterious benefactors or brothers. Not only that, she was paying for classes to further her education and once she became a nurse, she’d be able to hang up her fancy brassieres and set her high heels aside. Would it be so bad, he wondered, to get up on the stage for a paycheck? It wasn’t at all like what Blaze had done, not really, they could look but not touch, Mona said, she was the one with the power here; she chose to be on the stage, no one dragged her up there with brutal hands to force anything, not from her.

Could he possibly…?

It couldn’t be here, of course, but there were other clubs. Surely they would be as protective of their staff as this one, perhaps even more so without someone like Red in charge. If Blue was…if he didn’t…well, Rus might well need a quick way to earn a little money of his own and he very much suspected there weren’t many florist shops hiring Monsters out there at a decent wage. 

He drew away from Mona, meeting her curious brown eyes as he asked, “could you maybe…show me?”

Her gentle smile slipped, “You want me to dance for you?”

“no!” Rus gasped, horrified, hastily shaking his head, “no, no, i meant—show me how? to dance? a little?” He doubted he could manage any of the gyrations he’d seen through the glass when he’d arrived here on his first try, but, well, his first few bouquets wouldn’t have won a Gala award, either.

Mona’s almost hurt expression faded, taking on a more mischievous cast, “Oh, I see how it is!” She laughed teasingly and elbowed him gently in the side. “You want to impress someone with a few moves, is that it?” 

It wasn’t, not at all, but Rus let the fiery blush flooding his cheekbones speak for him. 

Mona’s grin widened, showing off her prominent front teeth. “Well, all right then, sugar, come on! We can head to the green room, it’ll be empty ‘til after midnight.”

She scrambled graceful to her feet despite the tottering height of her heels, pulling Rus more clumsily along behind her, “But first, let’s find something else for you to wear, sweetheart. You’re as cute as a lil’ ol’ punkin, but I think we’re after a different kind of appeal.”

He followed her from the room and couldn’t help noticing that through a discreet slit in her sheer panties, her fluffy tail was wriggling excitedly. 

What had he gotten himself into this time?

* * *

It didn’t take very long for Rus to start regretting his life choices. Again. 

Mona led him to a dressing room where other strippers were busily preparing for their sets. None of them gave him more than a curious glance and were completely unbothered by their own nudity as they stepped into filmy panties or tugged lacy bras that exposed more than they hid into place. More breasts than he’d seen in every movie he’d ever watched were on display along with a kaleidoscope variety of pert nipples, some pierced with bars or hoops, linked by a chain between them. He didn’t mean to stare but the alternative was either focusing on their poufy hair or dropping his gaze even lower to inspect a new variety of piercings in places he could hardly fathom. 

The sprinkler system on the ceiling was fascinating, Rus decided, and he tried to keep his gaze there. 

At least the clothes Mona chose for him weren’t terrible. She made no attempt to get him into any sort of thong and instead handed over a pair of faux black leather pants that were so tight on him that he couldn’t imagine a fleshier monster squeezing into them. They rode low on his pelvis, lewdly exposing the upper curves of his iliac crests. Not that he had much shame left after dropping trou in the same room as the others, yanking those trousers up over his legs so hastily friction burned against his femurs. 

They were a little short on him, reaching only mid-calf and exposing the delicate bones of his ankles and feet. Mona took advantage of it to thread a slender golden ribbon around one of his tibias, braiding it up and around his fibula in a delicate weave and tying it off in a bow. A half shirt that clung to his ribcage and left the length of his spine exposed completed the ensemble, if it could be called that.

There was a full-length mirror on one wall, blurry with fingerprints that only increased the sureality of seeing himself like this. He’d sat unblinking while Mona applied makeup and now he could see his wide sockets were lined in burnt orange that darkened into shadowing wings of kohl. Powder dusted his cheekbones, hiding most of his bright freckles and giving the illusion of narrowing his nasal aperture. The tight shirt was nearly translucent over what little it did cover, showing off his ribs, smooth and unblemished, a match to his exposed iliac crests rising over the tight waist of the pants. His slim feet were bare, the glittery ribbon woven through one leg inexorably drawing the gaze downward to the delicate intricacies of the bones there. 

He looked like someone else, someone coolly distant and beautiful. Someone he wasn’t sure he wanted to be.

“Honey, you look a treat,” Mona clapped her hands together in delight and the other strippers crowded in close, chorusing their agreement. She gathered him up and led him back through the gauntlet of bared breasts to the door despite his burgeoning reluctance. “Come on, let’s go see what you can do with it!”

Despite Mona’s enthusiasm, Rus figured out very quickly that this career path wasn’t for him. The green room was for private events, Mona confided, with its own little stage and an array of overhead lights that flashed along with the growling music she chose. But even without the high heels, Rus wobbled clumsily as he tried to circle the platform to the low bass tempo. He was sweating in mere minutes, slick bony fingers sliding frictionlessly off the metal pole as he tried to swing around it and sending him tumbling to the ground. 

Mona’s helpless giggles weren’t unkind as she helped him back up. “All right, sugar, first of all, put on these, it’ll help.” She held out a pair of fingerless gloves and Rus slid them on, flexing his hands against the soft leather. Then he squeaked in surprise as Mona came up behind him, pressing the lithe, furry length of her body against his own. Her hands settled firmly on his pelvis and Rus barely bit back a yelp of protest at the unwanted intimacy of it. Her touch was professional, the way she guided his hips decidedly not. 

Although he supposed it depended on the profession

Over the music, Mona said, “Now, you gotta have some kinda rhythm in those lovely bones. Listen to the music, sweetheart, you’re no beater, pretty thing, I know you can feel it.”

He tried to do as she said, listening to the music, following the guiding pressure of her hands. At first, it felt like he was at war with it, battling against the notes and her touch as one. Then just as he was about to give up, it suddenly clicked. 

_Under pressure,_ the singer crooned thickly overhead, the thrumming beat heavy in the room, _under pressure._ Rus obeyed the pulse of it, the command, sockets drifting closed as he swayed dreamily along.

“There you go, honey,” Mona’s voice floated to him. Her hands fell away, leaving him alone with the rhythm. “You got it, just like that.”

He obeyed, twirling around the pole and shifting his hips along with the beat. He twisted into a little shimmy, following the call of the song, and he might not be the most talented dancer, but a lack of ligaments to hold him back meant he was very flexible. He curled a leg around the pole and managed a decent half spin around it, dipping down low and barely hearing Mona’s appreciative whistle. His pelvis grinding against unyielding metal pressed tight between his legs sent an unexpected trill up his spine, and he imagined a crowd watching him, a once terrifying thought strangely exhilarating. No matter how they wanted him, they couldn’t have him, could only stare in furious need at the way he moved, his sleek bones untouchable for them, his body offered only to the one he desired and— 

The music cutting off abruptly caught him off guard and Rus stumbled, panting, blinking stinging sweat from his sockets as he looked out through the glaring lights in confusion and his soul froze like a solid lump in his chest at what he saw. 

Edge was standing inside the doorway, tall and imposing, a curled fist still on the sound system controls. His crimson eye lights cut through the darkened room like burning hellfire and instead of the heavy tension from the music, the air between them was filled with a seething, unnamed emotion. Not anger, not quite, and Rus stood frozen, barely noticing the ticklish trickle of a sweat droplet running down his ribs, dripping off to patter wetly on one exposed pelvic crest.

“Hello, you two.” The cool evenness in Edge’s rough voice belied the fire blazing from his sockets. “Are you having fun?”

* * *

tbc


	15. Chapter 15

* * *

Rus sagged against the sturdy support of the pole, still panting. He couldn’t look away from Edge, didn’t know the meaning of the emotion that blazed from his eye lights, a sharp contrast to the bland expression on his face. In that moment there was no one but the two of them in the world, the tension strung between them a vibrating wire sending out dangerous volts of electricity.

The sound of a daintily cleared throat jolted Rus from his near trance. Mona was standing on the floor just off the stage and her normally easy smile wavered into uncertainty. She wrapped her arms around herself, seeming for the first time aware of the brevity of her clothing as she tried a faltering laugh, “I s’pose you could say we were having a little fun. Getting in a little practice, is all.”

“Practice. Is that what this is,” Edge said flatly. His size alone made him an imposing figure and his arms crossed over his broad chest only worsened it, hands curled into fists beneath his arms. “You both decided that the best use of our facilities is for him to learn the fine art of shaking his ass for an audience, without even the benefit of a paycheck.”

Mona winced, her false lashes brushing her cheeks as she dropped her unhappy gaze to the floor. Seeing her upset broke that tension and roused Rus’s temper instead. What right did Edge have to come in here and be so cold to Mona when she’d been the one to offer him the most kindness in this place, more even than his own brother? 

Rus stormed to the side of the stage, hands braced on his hips as he glared at Edge through the blinding stage lights, “what business is it of yours what i do and who says it won’t be for a paycheck? i think i can decide for myself what i can or can’t do, and i’ll bet mona could teach me plenty of moves worth the price!”

It was the wrong thing to say. He knew it the moment the words hit the air, the way the glowing coals of Edge’s eye lights flared as if doused with gasoline. His stupid mouth, always speaking up without his permission, only this time he was dragging someone else along with him. But he was so sick of this, sick of people telling him what to do and making awful assumptions about him; Edge, his brother, even Red, if everyone was going to assume he was somehow selling his body for money, then perhaps he should while he was still able to set the price. 

But he did regret dragging Mona into all this. She shivered, her long ears drooping and her painted lips trembling, but she stepped up bravely, moving to stand between their shared glares. “Sir, it’s my fault, I was the one who suggested it, I—"

“Oh, I highly doubt that,” Edge interrupted smoothly. He stepped to the side and gestured exaggeratedly at the door. “Mona, I believe your shift is starting soon, perhaps you’d like to freshen up before you begin?”

She took a step and hesitated, turning back to give Rus a worried look and Rus suddenly knew if he asked, she’d stay. She’d risk her job, her schooling, risk everything trying to play as a buffer between them. That soft heart of hers was far better suited to being a nurse than trying to protect him and Rus managed a tremulous smile and shook his head, gesturing at the door. ‘go on,’ he mouthed, ‘i’ll be okay.’

He hoped it was true. She gave him a little nod and left, the staccato click of her heels stark on the tile floor. The door closed softly behind her, leaving them alone with the lights that were still flashing overhead, moving over Rus in a brilliant, lingering kaleidoscope. 

The silence drew out. Rus could taste the sweat beading on his face, trickles of it running down the sides of his skull, and he was very aware of the bareness of his spine, the exposed curves of his iliac crests. The tightness of his trousers concealed nothing, all the way down to his bare, beribboned feet. How could he not be aware of it with the way Edge’s gaze moved deliberately over him, tracing a downward path, then back up to meet his defiant gaze again.

“Your brother is worried about you," Edge said at last. "According to him, the two of you had a tiff and you ran off into the building. The entire security staff has been looking for you.” He let out a low humorless chuckle. “You’re quite slippery, aren’t you, flower shop, popping in and out of camera view like that, it’s quite a talent. I’m relieved you were intelligent enough not to leave the club, but do imagine my surprise when my brother informed me that not only had they caught sight of you on camera, but that you were taking the opportunity to learn a new trade." Edge’s jaw tightened suddenly and he spoke through his clenched teeth. "Perhaps you'd like to hear Red's assessment on your dancing skills?"

"no." Rus lifted his chin, even as he cursed himself for not thinking that there might be cameras. He could imagine Red’s crude opinion very easily without a reenactment, “i don’t really care to hear a lot of what your brother has to say. Or you, for that matter.”

“Me?” Edge asked, low. He took a step closer and Rus resisted the ridiculous urge to take one backwards. “And what have I done to upset you now, flower shop? I seem to manage it as readily as breathing.”

“you…this!” Rus gestured wildly at the stage. “you’re always telling me what to do! telling me what i feel! i’ve only been here for two days and i can hardly even think, anymore!” He stalked over to the pole and ran a hand down it, the metal gliding against the smooth leather of his glove. “this was my choice, i asked mona to show me how to dance and if this is what i want, you can’t stop me!”

“Can’t I?” Edge said. The silky deliberation of his voice sent an unpleasant shiver down Rus’s spine. “I see, you want to play games, is that it? All right, then.” Edge reached over to push a button on the console and the music began again, a different song, this one slower and sultry. He snagged one of the cushioned chairs and dragged it over, sitting with his hands resting loosely on his spread knees. “Show me what you’ve learned.”

“what?” Rus faltered, letting his hand fall from the pole as he blinked at Edge, his foolish temper cooling. “you…what?”

“Dance for me,” Edge repeated, patiently, “You’re looking for a job, consider this an audition. Show me what you can do.”

“but—" _I wasn’t_ , Rus didn’t say. Not here, anyway, not in this club, and honestly, what was he trying to do? Who was he even upset with, Edge? His brother? He didn’t even know anymore, only that his soul was pounding, the throb of it loud inside his skull. “i…i couldn’t.”

“No?” Edge leaned forward, propping his chin on one hand, his elbow on his knee, “How can you dance for an audience if you can’t dance for me? Half the security team has seen you, my own brother tells me it was quite a show, and you won’t offer it to me?”

Heat rushed into Rus’s cheekbones to think of others crowded around the security cameras watching him, but damn it all, Edge didn’t get to tell him what he could or couldn’t do, no one did, and if he wanted a fucking show, he’d get one. “fine!”

Rus took a grip on the pole again and steadied himself with a long, slow breath, listening to the pulse of the music. The sensuous growl of the woman’s voice moved through the air as vividly as a touch, crooning to her lover. 

_I'll give it to you slowly, till you're just begging me to hold you…_

He let the words embrace him, starting slowly, his hips swaying as he caught the rhythm. His skills were hardly impressive and he knew it; his feet were bare, without the imposing benefit of high heels, sweat was running down his bones, dripping salt-sweet against his tongue when he swung his head around, spinning lightly around the pole. Before, he’d pictured a crowd watching him and now he danced only for Edge, let the knowledge of that gaze upon him move him. His pelvis followed that husky voice, swinging and grinding. He turned his back to the pole, let it brace him as his hands moving over his own bones, skimming down his ribs, fondling teasingly at his iliac crests, lower, tracing a path down his femurs even as he swayed against the support of the pole.

_I'll hold you up and drive you all night, I'll hold you up and drive you, baby, till you feel the daylight…_

A low growl dragged him from the near trance of the music and Rus faltered, opening his sockets and seeing Edge. He’d nearly expected Edge to be impassive, perhaps even bored; surely he saw better than this all the time, every day there were dozens of dancers right beneath his feet with twice the skill of a clumsy beginner.

Instead, Edge’s crimson gaze was hungry, avid, his breathing heavy and obvious. Whatever Rus’s inexperience, it didn’t seem to matter in his appreciation of the view. That voraciousness seemed to call Rus from the stage, pulling him down with one trembling foot in front of the other until he was standing before Edge. The outer room seemed chilly in contrast to the lighted stage, his sweat prickling on his bones as it cooled, but it didn’t touch his inner heat, the burning in his core as Rus abruptly straddled Edge’s legs, his femurs spread wide as he settled into his lap with a writhing grind. 

Before he could do anything, strong hands caught his hips in a brutal grip, stilling him, and Edge shuddered, rasping out close to his audial canal, “Don’t move.”

Rus didn’t, held very still as Edge rested his forehead against the side of his skull, sweat smearing between them as he panted. Rus could feel the hardness under him through the layers of their clothes, hot and heavy, and the urge to spread his legs wider, to grind against it, was terrible and terrifying. A whimper caught in his throat, caged behind his teeth. He wanted it, didn’t want it, didn’t know what he wanted, only sat obediently still until Edge’s breathing eased somewhat and he whispered harshly, damp breath gusting against Rus’s skull, “Go on.”

“i can’t,” Rus whispered. His soul was thrumming, wet heat settling between his own legs in an aching throb. 

Edge’s voice was hardly more than a broken snarl, “Go on!”

“i can’t!” Rus cried again, almost a sob as he sat trembling on Edge’s lap, “i can’t, if i do, i’ll…i—”

 _i’ll come in my pants_ , Rus couldn’t say, how could he possible say that, no matter how true.

A short, harsh laugh vibrated against the side of his skull, Edge sneering, “What’s wrong, flower shop? Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“edge.” The name lodged in his throat, taut and desperate, an answer all its own.

“I’ll give you what you want,” Edge whispered to him, a promise and a threat in one. “all of it, you beautiful, infuriating little brat!”

“i don’t—" But the words were choked off, lost, as he was suddenly lifted, strong arms carrying him and the wall was suddenly hard against his shoulders and back, Edge hard between his legs, pinning him to the wall as his mouth covered Rus’s with greedy determination. 

Rus couldn’t think, couldn’t claw his way through the tangle of his own thoughts, not with Edge’s tongue driving against his own, the same fierce rhythm rocking between his thighs, rubbing against him through the thinness of his borrowed trousers. Their bodies shifting together, hands under his knees holding him up and that hardness driving against him, a mimicry of the sex that would surely come next and—

_No._

Rus tore his mouth loose in a panic, gasping wetly, “wait!”

Even he couldn’t hear that weak word, lost in the panting breaths between them, the low growl of the music, of his own soul throbbing. Rus shook his head as Edge tried to take his mouth again, struggling weakly. Both hands braced against Edge's chest was like pushing against stone as he tried again, louder, “wait! please, please stop!”

Against him, Edge stilled, slowly drawing away and looking down at him incredulously, his mouth curled into a disbelieving snarl. For one wild moment, Rus thought Edge wouldn’t, that he would only take his mouth again, take _him_ , and there would be nothing Rus could do to stop him. 

But slowly, so slowly, the iron grip on Rus’s legs eased and he was, oh, so slowly lowered, set precisely back on his wobbly feet as Edge let him go. The moment he was free, Edge turned away to sag against the wall, his forehead pressed to the cool wood, his shoulders quivering as he sucked in long, slow breaths. 

It took Rus a moment to catch his own unsteady balance, his legs were wobbly at the knees, and the angry, damp throb between them almost made him regret his plea to stop. Edge’s sockets were screwed tightly shut, a bead of pinkish sweat running down his face to his chin where it briefly lingered before dripping down to leave a darkened spot on his fine shirt. 

“edge?” Rus said, uncertainly. 

He reached out with a trembling hand, flinching back as Edge snarled out, raw and broken, “Don’t touch me!”

Rus skittered back, biting the tip of his tongue as he watched Edge struggle for control. 

“I’m sorry,” Rus said, miserably. His thwarted desire tasted like ashes on the back of his tongue, coupled with steadily growing shame as he admitted, “i didn’t want it like this. not…not angry. not like this.”

Edge didn’t lift his head from the wall, but he did turn it enough to slit open his sockets, looking at Rus, “Not like this,” Edge agreed roughly. “You don’t need to apologize, but you do need to make a choice and stop teasing around it. Make up your mind, flower shop, or it’ll end up made for you.”

That implication shouldn't make a terrifying little thrill travel up his spine, it really shouldn't.

“i’m not even sure what the choices are, anymore,” Rus complained. He sank down to the floor, sitting with his back against the wall, his arms wrapped around his upraised knees. It helped hide what his clothes tried to expose, mostly, and how could he ever have thought he could go through with stripping. “but i don’t think this is what being on the stage would be like.” For one, he was fairly sure that touching was very much against the rules. At least, he hoped so, Mona didn’t deserve to have sweaty, drunken idiots groping her. 

“It isn’t,” Edge agreed, “but that job isn’t for the likes of you.”

It was true, but the assessment still stung. “but it’s okay for someone like mona, is that it?”

Edge only shrugged, unconcerned. “That’s her choice. She’s well compensated and Mona isn’t mine.”

And that right there lit his temper again like a spark against a firecracker. “neither am i!”

The way Edge smirked down at him was infuriating, “Are you so sure about that, flower shop?”

He ignored the first part of the question, entirely too afraid of the answer. “urgh, you are such an asshole! i do have a name, you know!”

“I know.” Edge crouched down suddenly, so oddly graceful for such a large person. The sight of it was tantalizing, stirring Rus’s desire anew as Edge ran a gentle finger down the side of his face and murmured, “I do know, Rus.”

Oh. Rus closed his sockets, shaken. His name sounded foreign in Edge’s mouth and suddenly Rus wanted to take it back, stash it away unspoken. Let him be someone else here, let him be the pretty flower shop boy and keep Rus away from it all, safe and unspoken. But it was too late, he’d demanded it himself, and he could only open his sockets again sorrowfully as Edge went on.

“You and your brother staying here is not conditional on being with me,” Edge told him softly. “This entire situation was my fault and I intend to keep you safe, whether you want me or not.” Edge sighed heavily. “But I don’t understand you. What is it you want from me, sweet little flower shop? You change your mind with the wind. You want me and then you don’t. You don’t want us to kill Blaze, and yet, you don’t offer an alternative. What can I do? Do you think he’ll simply forget and let you go strolling back into your life without a care?”

“no, i don’t,” Rus burst out raggedly, “i don’t know the answers. i know we can’t go back to the shop. but what’s the alternative, that i stay here forever? that i only strip for you instead of the world?”

Edge offered him a sudden smirk, infuriating and arousing, “Are you suggesting that you didn’t want to dance for me?” He sobered, his smile falling away. “You don’t need to strip for anyone, get that idea out of your pretty little head right now. I told you. I’ll take care of you until you can return to your shop, no matter how long it takes.”

Rus swallowed hard, remembering Blue’s earlier anger, his accusations. It seemed like so long ago they’d been standing in the wreckage of their shop and Blue was telling him that he was irreplaceable, could it have only been a few days? So brief a time for his life to be turned upside down and slantways, his busy, boring days making floral arrangements swapped for a this, and now, Rus wasn’t so sure how his brother felt. He wasn’t sure of anything, anymore. “and if my brother doesn’t want me back?”

“I sincerely doubt there’s anything you could do that would keep your brother away from you, even being with me,” Edge said dryly. He stood then and held out a hand, “Now come on, let’s head back upstairs. I think we’ve both had enough dancing for the night.”

Rus took his hand and let himself be pulled to his feet, “don’t be angry with mona, she was only trying to help.”

“Calm yourself, I’m not angry with Mona. It’s hardly her fault,” Edge said lightly. “I can hardly be upset that she let herself get drawn into your troublesome web when I did the same.”

“me!” Rus’s mouth dropped open in outrage as he sputtered indignantly, “you’re the one who keeps saying all this is your fault!”

“I stand corrected.” Edge set a knuckle beneath Rus’s chin, tilting up his head, and whatever else Rus tried to say was smothered beneath a soft kiss, the former heat of desire muted into melting tenderness. Rus made a tiny sound of complaint as Edge drew away, rising up on his toes as he tried and failed to keep that mouth on his own. His voice was husky low, his breath a soft gust against Rus’s face as he murmured, “I’ll be sure to have someone reassure her that she’s not in any trouble.”

“who?” Rus asked dazedly, and Edge only chuckled, leaning down to kiss him again.

* * *

tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Rus was dancing to was 'Drive' by Melissa Ferrick.


	16. Chapter 16

* * *

As heated as Edge’s kisses were, the warmth dissipated quickly when Edge led him out of the green room. Standing outside the door was one of the Dog guards, his expression the same blandly impassive as they usually were and that was enough to set Rus firmly back into reality. 

Rus stole a single glance at that furry, emotionless face before he looked away, a stupid blush rising in his cheekbones. He couldn’t help wondering if this Dog were part of the security team that had seen him dancing on the cameras, but there was no way in hell he was going to ask. Better to banish that idea from the ol’ memory place and move right on. 

Maybe Edge felt sort of the same or maybe he was still feeling a little handsy after everything. Instead of leading the way, he slid an arm around Rus and guided him to walk beside him, settling a large, warm hand at the base of his spine like a sort of backwards leash. Edge was wearing gloves, but they weren’t much of a barrier and the light touch against his exposed vertebrae made Rus shiver. 

This was…this was fine, and he trotted along beside him as quick as he could without outright running, partly to keep up with Edge’s long strides and partly because the floor was damn cold on his bare feet. 

If there was one thing he’d learned from all this it was that sexy didn’t have much in common with comfort, and that was the truth.

The path they took was different from the one this morning and led to an elevator instead of stairs. Crowded into the lift, Rus didn’t think he’d ever felt more awkward in his life as he stood there between Edge and the Dog, tarted up in the clothes Mona chose for him like the shiny jam-filling between two claustrophobically oversized slices of bread. He practically darted out when the doors opened, waited only long enough for Edge to gather him up again, herding his lost sheep through the hallways.

Edge didn’t seem to feel the need for all the tricksy backwalking that the Dogs usually did and led a straightforward path around the corner to a door in the middle of the hall. 

Rus blinked, confused. “this isn’t my room.” 

He was pretty sure about that, anyway. All the doors were exactly the same and Red’s tricksy tricks made it hard to keep tabs on anything, but as confusing as the corridors were, Rus knew for sure that there was a wall sconce across from his room, not a painting. Probably both were rigged with spy cameras or microphones, angel knew what. 

“It isn’t,” Edge agreed. A press of his hand against a panel opened up a familiar keypad and Edge tapped in a code, the numbers obscured from Rus’s view. “It’s mine. Your brother can wait a little longer to see you.” He slanted Rus a knowing look. “I’m gathering he didn’t take your chat about us very well.”

“not really.” Rus blinked hard against the sudden stinging in his sockets, trying not to think about the accusations Blue flung at him. 

He followed Edge into the room, the same room as earlier, had it only been a few hours since he’d been sitting on that wide sofa, healing Edge from the burns whose marks were still faintly visible on his bones? This entire week was rushing by at lightspeed, so many things coming at him at once. 

Earlier, he hadn’t gotten a very good impression of the room past ‘posh’, more than a little distracted by Edge being, you know, burnt up. Now as he was looking at it, the expensive vibe was still winning the race but there was a close second coming up from behind of…unimpressive. 

Yeah, the sofas were huge and plushy, the bed frame and side tables ornate wood carved in curlicue designs. Oriental rugs lined the floor, decadent cushions and pillows carefully placed. What it really screamed was a lack of any personality whatsoever. Like it hadn’t been five minutes since a designer came in and did their thing, leaving it coldly uncluttered and stark.

There was no personality, no shoes half-kicked under the sofa, no books piling up on the nightstand with a glass of water for the midnight thirsties. The sofa was nice, but there wasn’t a single anomaly in the cushions, a slight indent that revealed which one was the favorite. Back home, their walls were covered with pictures, Blue loved photographs, and there were so many of them; from when they first came to the surface and those first six months that all Monsters spent in quarantine, pictures of them working in the garden, from the grand opening of the shop.

There was plenty of art here, all of it probably expensive, not that Rus knew the difference between museum quality and dentist waiting room, but not a single photograph, not even a family shot on the nightstand. Which, okay, a candid shot of Red staring at him all night wouldn’t give _him_ sweet dreams, but that was Edge’s brother, not some psycho stranger who’d abducted him right off the street. 

Even their current borrowed room had a touch of clutter after only two days. This one was so impersonal, utilitarian despite the implied comfort. There was nothing of Edge here, nothing whatsoever, as blank as an expensive hotel room. This was nothing more than the place Edge slept and dressed, it wasn’t a home, and that seemed so wrong. 

His impromptu assessment short-circuited when Rus realized that Edge hadn’t paused to sit at the sofas. He walked past those cushy seats to the bed, toeing off his shoes and lining them up precisely next to it, then impatiently shoving the curtains back as he settled to lay on top of the plush comforter with a loud groan, clothes and all. 

Rus hung back, unsure. If Edge was planning on going to sleep, did he expect Rus to lounge around his room and…what? There wasn’t a television that Rus could see, not so much as a paperback lying around, and Rus didn’t even have his phone to play a couple rounds of Candy Crush. 

Before Rus could plop down on either of the sofas to spend some quality time twiddling his thumbs, one of Edge’s sockets cracked open to show a gleam of crimson, his unscarred brow bone rising pointedly as he held open an arm in invitation. “Come here.”

It wasn’t a question and not precisely a demand. More like an expectation and when Rus didn’t move, only shuffled his bare feet against the carpet undecidedly, that brow bone rose higher still. “I only want to hold you,” Edge said, “it’s been a very long day. Can’t you give me that much, flower shop?” One corner of his mouth lifted in that half-smile of his, settling at a near smirk, “Considering that I was getting ready for bed when I heard about your latest disappearance, I think you owe me that much.”

The last thing Rus wanted to get into was a conversation about debts, seriously. He had no idea which side was in the red anymore, but he knew which side Red was on and Rus wasn’t liking his odds. He still waffled, lingering back. “like i haven’t been losing sleep over you, asshole?” Rus muttered. 

That half-smirk only widened, unoffended. “Well? Make a choice.”

Somehow, Rus didn’t think he only meant this bizarre version of snuggle time. He shuffled closer, slowly climbing onto the wide bed, crossing the plains of it like a damn wagon train heading to California. But his reluctance vanished by the time he settled cautiously against Edge’s side. He was big and warm, the spice of his cologne sharp in Rus’s nasal passage, and one arm looped around his back, a large hand settling to rest almost chastely on the upper curve of Rus’s hip. 

Both of them were still fully clothed even if Rus was a little more exposed in his dance outfit, intimate without being intimidating. As much as he hated to admit it, it felt…nice. Safe.

Rus gave in and snuggled closer, settling his skull cautiously on Edge’s chest. Felt the rise and fall as he took a deep breath and let it out in a contented sigh. Edge’s arm tightening around him, his hand rubbing a gentle, soothing circle against Rus’s hip. There was a soft touch against the top of his skull, a kiss, coupled with a gust of warm breath. 

As tired as he was, Rus found that he wasn’t anywhere close to drowsing off. His thoughts were still agitated, questions bouncing around on the inside of his skull. Without letting himself think too hard about it, Rus blurted the safest one. “how did you get involved in all this? the club, i mean. you know what i mean.”

Edge’s gloved fingers dragged an absent path up Rus’s spine, leaving a tingling trail behind them. “Hm? That’s a long story.”

Of course it was. “give me the reader’s digest version.”

He felt Edge smile against his temple. “All right.” For a long moment, he said nothing, only gently pet the many bones that Rus’s clothes left exposed, but if he was hoping to lull Rus to sleep without answering, that was off the table. Rus shifted restlessly and he finally spoke, slowly, as if selecting each word with care. 

“There were four of us when we first came to the surface,” Edge said. With his head resting on Edge’s rib cage, Rus could hear the vibration of his deep voice from within his chest, the words coming in strange stereo. “My brother and myself, Blaze, and Gaster. I’ve known Blaze since I was a child and Gaster was…I suppose our godfather, that’s as good a word as any. He raised us and he was the one who set up this little empire, he started nearly the moment we stepped out into the sunshine. He gave the orders and we followed them, without question.”

Referring to someone as ‘was’, yeah, that was kind of a big hint, but Rus asked anyway, haltingly, “so...um. what happened to him?”

“He disappeared one night.”

“he left?”

“I don’t know,” Edge said, and something in his tone warned about asking any more questions about that, “He was simply gone. Red took over after that and we finished building up this place as a home base.”

Their godfather up and vanished one night and no one looked any deeper into that. 

Yeah…

Rus was no Sherlock Holmes or even a Watson, but that seemed, oh, what was the word, really fucking suspicious? 

Then again, like he had room to talk, their pop had done something pretty similar before they ever came to the surface. Went off to get drunk, same as always, and never came back. In his case, the whole town went looking and never found so much as a speck of dust; for all Rus knew, his pop was out there somewhere alive, maybe starring in an Underground music review with this Gaster guy. 

He wondered if Edge had been scared when Gaster disappeared, like Rus had. Or if he’d been guiltily relieved that it was over, and he wouldn’t have to deal with all that shit again…like Rus had. But in their case, with one man down, that left three. 

“and blaze?” Rus asked, cautiously.

“That’s an entirely different discussion.”

Hmph. “that wasn’t the reader’s digest version, that was barely a tik tok video,” Rus complained. “when do i get the long version?”

“You don’t,” Edge said, and the coolness of his voice belied the heat of his fingertips fondling their way back down Rus’s spine. They teased at the waistband of his pants, barely skirting beneath the fabric. “I told you once, I am a very bad person. I wouldn’t taint you by telling you all that I’ve done. All I can say is that for every deal with the devil we make, some good comes of it, and if the price of helping our people is my soul, I’ll gladly pay it.” 

Difficult as it was, Rus shook off Edge’s hand, sitting up enough to scowl back down at him. “nice speech, but if you don’t want me knowing anything about you, where does that leave me?” Ignoring his inner voice shrieking that it was better to stay in the dark, safer, ignorance was the only path back home. 

“Right here.” Edge rose up on one elbow, his other hand gentle on Rus’s chin as he leaned up for a kiss and, damn it, someday Rus wasn’t going to fall for this. Someday he wasn’t going to melt like a pat of butter on fresh toast at the heat of Edge’s mouth, the curl of a tongue against his own, gently coaxing. For a moment or so there was only that, a cautious meeting of mouths that slowly turned more insistent, parting for gasps of breath before hungrily meeting again. 

The world seemed to spin suddenly, revolving, and then the mattress was soft beneath him. Rus dazedly realized Edge was above him now, knees nudging his legs apart as his heavy weight settled between his femurs.

_Wait_ , Rus tried to say, the word catching in his throat as Edge abandoned his mouth to bite a delicate line along his jaw 

“oh,” he whimpered aloud. He fumbled for words that skittered out of his reach, unsure if he even wanted to speak them. He couldn’t focus, his attention torn in a dozen directions; the pressure of Edge’s weight pushing him harder into the mattress, the tease of his mouth sucking at his mandible joint, and his hands never stopping, roaming over him from his skull to his hip, touching, coaxing, soaking him in pleasure so quickly. Too quickly, days’ worth of pent up desire shaking loose of their bonds to follow that touch. 

Edge shifted against him and knee slid higher to press firmly at the join of Rus’s legs, rubbing at his pubic arch through the too-tight trousers. He cried out, a half-voiced whimper of protest twisted up with an almost alarming need. “wait…i…i don’t…”

“Shhhhhh,” Edge breathed. His mouth was searing hot against the side of Rus’s skull, crooning into his auditory canal. “Let me, pretty. My pretty little flower shop.” His hand slipped down into the cradle of Rus’s pelvis, not into the agitated swirl of magic gathering there, but tracing his ilium in an agonizing tease. He could hear the smile in Edge’s voice as he murmured, “You’re trembling.”

If he’d had a single wit still in his possession, Rus would have snapped out, ‘no shit!’. He could hear that he was trembling, the muted rattle of his bones as shivers wracked him. But mere thinking was far past his skills right now as that teasing touch suddenly became so much more pertinent, fingers gliding down to rub circles against his sacrum, a matching rhythm to the rocking pressure of his knee. 

Rus nearly sobbed as he tried to arch up, struggling against Edge’s weight holding him down. He couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything, his breath panting harsh and the pulse of his soul so loud inside his skull he barely heard Edge whisper, crooning to him, a request and a demand as one, “Come for me.”

His knee pushed hard against his crotch at the same moment his fingers dipped down, fitting against the groove of his pubic symphysis, the rising wave of his pleasuring cresting with a garbled cry, “oh, oh, OH!”

His whole body quivered, carried along by sudden ecstasy and Rus could only whimper and let it take him. Shivering and choking out little cries even as he sagged weakly into the mattress, wrung out and undone. 

Damp breath gusted against his temple in a fervent groan, “There. So beautiful, my beautiful flower.”

Rus only lay there gasping, limbs gone weak and limp. He squinched his sockets tightly closed and waited for Edge to strip away his pants, waited for a hand to take his own and guide it down to the hard shaft he’d felt pressed against him. Long moments passed and eventually, anticipation melted into confusion. Rus opened his sockets to see Edge still hunched over him, taking long, slow breaths to settle his aroused magic.

With a grimace, Edge rolled off him and the loss of his weight left Rus strangely bereft. He reached out unthinkingly.

“Don’t,” Edge gritted out. He caught hold of Rus’s hand before he could snatch it away, softened his words with a light kiss against his palm. “Not right now, not tonight.”

“oh, but,” Rus could only blink in dumb confusion, “why?” 

“Because when I make love to you, you’ll spent the entire night in my bed.” Edge’s voice went lower, deep and dark, and a renewed flush of heat lit inside Rus, a kindling spark. “I want to be sure I can see your face when I make you come.” 

A blush flamed across his face, burning hot, and Rus was almost ready to beg for that, even with little twinges of pleasure still lingering, but Edge’s smirk soured. “I don’t believe your brother would accept that tonight, I’ve been advised he’s anxious for your return.”

Been advised? How and by who? Reluctantly, Rus sat up, wondering if his trembling knees were even going to hold him. At least he could be grateful that his pants were black, it would hide the dampness he could feel between his legs. He really hoped they’d give the clothes a wash before taking them back to Mona. 

Edge slid off the bed, frowning down at his wrinkled suit. He shed his jacket, tossing it on the bed and hey, his first piece of clutter, Rus could be a good influence yet. With a practiced yank, Edge untucked his shirt, pulling off the tie and loosening the top few buttons. It lent a casual appeal even as it exposed the lines of his collarbone, the slender bones oddly delicate on his large frame.

Great, he looked cool and casual, and Rus looked exactly like he’d just been rolling around in someone’s bed. That was a little more honest than Rus felt like being with his brother right now and maybe Edge agreed, because he disappeared behind a nearby door and when he came back out, he was carrying a shirt, a close match to the one he was already wearing. 

He helped Rus slip it on and Rus couldn’t help a laugh at the way the sleeves fell far past his fingers. Between the two of them, they rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, Edge’s side neat and precise, and Rus’s a lopsided attempt. He stood like a child while Edge buttoned it and now shyness was creeping in, leaving him a little uncomfortable. He was grateful to be covered, his spine and ilia hidden behind the oversized shirt. 

Rus bit back a yelp as Edge suddenly dropped down to crouch at his feet. He took hold of Rus’s bare foot with both hands, urging it to rest on his knee as Edge plucked loose the glittery ribbon still wound through his tibia and fibula. 

Yeah, that was probably a good idea. The once-crisp bow was drooping sadly by now and it would surely bring up questions that Rus didn’t really want to answer. He honestly wasn’t sure if he wanted to speak to Blue at all and the urge to ask Edge to let him stay the night after all was strong. But this was his problem to deal with, not Edge’s and it wasn’t fair to ask him to step into the middle of it. Edge was already cobwebbed into the center of enough webs. 

The rough feel of the ribbon gliding against his bones as it was pulled loose distracted him, making him shiver, his toes curling. He braced his hands against Edge’s shoulders, leaning against his solid support and it was a good thing he did because as soon as the ribbon fell away, Edge ducked his head to press a kiss against the newly sensitive bones. 

“There.” Edge let go of his ankle and Rus set his foot back to the floor, trying to ignore the renewed wobbliness of his knees. “Let’s get you back to your brother.”

His sudden trepidation was harder to ignore but Rus managed, nodding and he said as firmly as he could. “Let’s go.”

The walk was a short one without the pretense, his room was only two turns down the corridors away. Rus hesitated in front of the closed door and turned back to Edge, looking up into his bright, crimson eye lights. 

So much had happened that a simple good night seemed kinda pathetic. They were way past the conventions of a first date, hell, they’d skipped that part of the manual entirely. But there was a Dog standing on one side of their door as a guard and his brother was just inside, and Rus’s mind was a blank page. 

Edge saved him with a brief, soft kiss, huh, saving seemed to be his personal kink and holy shit Rus did not just think that. He banished the thought, rising up on his toes to return that light kiss and sighing unhappily as Edge broke it and stepped back.

“It’ll be all right, flower shop,” Edge told him softly. Rus nodded stiffly and turned away. He took a steadying breath, squared his shoulders, and opened the door. 

“blue?” Rus barely had time to close the door before a blur flew across the room and attached itself to his legs. He flailed back a step, only saved from falling to the floor by the door behind him. 

“I’m sorry!” Blue blurted, “I’m so sorry, brother, I didn’t mean it.”

Rus blinked hard against the sudden well of hot tears, dropping down to his knees to pull his brother into a fierce hug. “it’s okay, bro.”

“It’s not,” Nearly a sob and already the front of Rus’s shirt was growing damp. “It’s not at all!”

That was probably truer than Rus wanted to admit. A hasty apology wasn’t going to heal his aching hurt at the memory of his brother’s accusations. But it was a start and he couldn’t bear to listen to his brother crying, not now. 

“look, let’s just get some sleep, tomorrow we can have a long talk and i’ll tell you everything.” Rus hesitated, took a deep breath, and forced out, “I promise.”

He meant it. He was going to tell the entire story from the beginning and if it made his brother hate him, then so be it. Whatever else happened, the lies and hidden truths between them were going to end.

Blue nodded, his chin digging into Rus’s sternum, “All right. But it doesn’t matter, Papy, none of it matters except that you’re back.”

They sat there together, caught in a tight embrace, until the cold of the floor started to seep its way in. “bro, i love you,” Rus said ruefully, “but my ass could use a new seating arrangement. 

“Language,” Blue said with a watery laugh. He let go then, turning away so briskly that Rus frowned, watching his brother bustle away. “Why don’t you go get changed into your pajamas, everything will seem better after some sleep.”

He kept his face turned away, not looking at Rus and that was more than a little strange. He was used to Blue looking him over like he was studying for a test. “bro?” Rus asked, hesitantly, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” That single word bordered on maniacally cheery and he kept turned away, angling his head oddly, and yeah, okay, they weren’t going to get out of one set of lies by diving into a new one. Exhausted as he was, it didn’t take much to sidestep into a shortcut and come out in front of his brother, catching sight of him before he could spin away.

“what the fuck!” Rus gasped. He grabbed Blue by the shoulders, ignoring his feeble resistance as he forced him to turn around. There was a darkened bruise running down the side of his brother’s face like the shadow of a bluejay’s wing, from his eye socket nearly to his chin.

“what happened?” Rus demanded. The unpleasant thought came that while he was fooling around in Edge’s bed, his brother was out here alone, no, not alone, someone _hurt_ him, and the list of suspects was vanishingly short. “it was him wasn’t it, he-“ Rus broke off, too furious to speak. He was going to _kill_ Red, he didn’t know how, but somehow he was going to dust that low-rent Scarface bastard for daring to hurt his brother.

“No!” Blue shook his head frantically. “It wasn’t him, I swear, I promise, it was…” Blue sighed, tiredly. “I did something stupid. It seems to be an ongoing trend these past few days. Please, little brother, I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

Dirty pool, that, tacking the ‘little’ onto brother.

“okay,” Rus agreed, slowly. “but we’re talking about everything tomorrow.”

“Deal,” Blue hurried over to gather up Rus’s pajamas, practically thrusting them into his arms. “Now let’s get some sleep.”

Blue was trying to sound reasonable and it mostly worked. The endless flood of exhaustion was rising up over the sandbags and Rus was ready to get some sleep. 

He went to the bathroom to wash up, trying to ignore the way his pants still felt uncomfortably damp at the crotch, a match to the tearstained front of his shirt. But it was an absent glance in the bathroom mirror that had him blushing up to his browbone. 

Unbeknownst to him, he had a new bruise of his own, vivid against the pale bone of his jaw. It couldn’t be called anything but a hickey and there wasn’t a single chance Blue missed seeing it.

He’d seen it and hadn’t asked, not a single question about that or Rus’s sudden change of clothes and his obviously borrowed shirt.

Looked like neither of them were talking about their fresh bruises, not that that was anything new. Not talking about things seemed to be their current state of being; shouting, yes, avoiding, got it, but no talking, not really. Tomorrow was going to change that, Rus decided firmly, for better or worse. 

Rus sighed and stepped into the shower, washing away the long day with hot water and heavenly scented soap. This place might smell like a choir of angels, he thought sourly, but the sulfur was sure starting to creep in.

* * *

tbc


	17. Interlude #4: Turning Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Rus is off learning to dance and getting into trouble, his brother is worrying about him and Blue is about to find some unexpected trouble of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, let me add a warning here for attempted sexual assault and violence.

* * *

Blue could hardly say that he trusted Red, but he did believe he’d keep his word. He had to, what other option did he have. If Red were lying to him, then he might as well never have come here; he and his brother could have fled the city entirely, abandoned their home and their shop, and taken their chances with the Human world outside the city. 

The mercy of unknown humans _might_ be kinder than the Fell brothers, but it wasn’t a chance he was willing to take. Not yet. 

For now, he was forced to rely on Red’s uncertain promise to return his brother to him yet again. He obediently went back to their rooms to wait and wait he did, his earlier anxiety returning as he paced the room, counting his steps distractedly, fifteen across, fifteen back, and nothing changed. Another hour ticked slowly by and there was still no sign of his little brother, no word from Red or the Dogs, or even, Angel forbid, from Edge. 

His own troublesome thoughts refused to be silent. What if Papy had gotten into some trouble? What if he were hurt, what if, what, if, if, if. If he were hurt, Red might very well try to cover it up, mightn’t he, keeping the truth from Blue in order to keep him growing those illicit, rare golden flowers. 

The very idea of his little brother hidden away somewhere in this building, frightened and hurt, perhaps calling out for him, was too much for Blue to bear. He couldn’t wait any longer. 

Cautiously, he opened the door, but the Dog that had been there earlier was still gone, off searching for his brother, Blue hoped. The long hallways were empty and while he knew there were discreet cameras in the corners and hidden behind the awful artwork, if he was quick, he might be able to get where he was going before anyone was around to stop him. 

Red said that Papy went downstairs earlier, down to the club, and that was where Blue was headed. He knew how to get there; his mental map was clear and far easier to follow than the winding paths they’d been shown before would lead anyone to believe. 

With bravado that didn’t match the tremor in his soul, Blue boldly walked down the hallway, turning the corner and heading directly to the stairwell door as he tried to act as if he belonged here. 

Not that he ever could. 

No alarm rose, no sharp cry telling him to stop or halt. The door was locked, but he’d watched Dogamy put in the code earlier and it worked on the first try, the door hissing softly as it swung open. 

The stairwell was darkened and stark, all metal railings and grate steps, the industrial appearance nothing at all like the luxurious rooms that led to it. His footsteps echoed with every step Blue took, wincingly loud, and as he came to the bottom landing, he could hear the heavy thrum of music, muffled as it came through the walls. 

When he opened the door at the bottom, that music flooded in like an assault on the senses. The hallway was dimly lit, the overhead bulbs a deep and garish crimson as if to paint the rooms themselves as scarlet as their reputation. It was difficult to see anything, and Blue floundered, directionless, until he finally decided to simply follow the music. He paused at every doorway he came across, peering behind gauzy curtains and doors, his pale eye lights skimming over empty sofas and scantily-clad ladies sitting in front of mirrors rimmed with lights where they painted on their makeup. Hiding their true faces from those they danced for, surely the sort of horrid people who was more interested in the various body parts barely hidden beneath their pretty lingerie than the soul they were attached to.

Blue knew about that sort of person all too well, and he shuddered, letting yet another curtain fall closed as he made his way further down the hallway. The music was achingly loud now, rattling in his skull, and he barely heard the voice above his head before he nearly walked into its owner. 

“Well, now, where have they been hiding you.”

Blue looked up, up, to see a Human looking down at him. He didn’t look like the sort of patron someone might expect in a place like this, but then, they never did. Brown hair, brown eye ordinary, sporting a cheap suit that he’d likely worn to the office that day where he worked as an accountant or an office manager or in the marketing department. His suit was rumpled, the tie loosened either by himself or by an enterprising one of the ladies who was bartering for an extra tip. A quick glance down the hallway showed a muted neon sign glowing ‘restrooms’ above a set of doors; someone had taken a wrong turn and why on earth wasn’t there a bouncer around to keep such a thing from happened…unless they’d been called away and Blue tried not to think of why, not because of his brother, please, no. 

“I beg your pardon,” Blue said stiffly. He tried to walk past the man, but a rough hand caught his shoulder, fingers digging painfully into his fragile collarbone, holding him back. 

The Human leaned over far too close, his voice slurring out over the pulsing music, “You’re a pretty thing, aren’t you.” He licked his teeth, his breath foul with alcohol. “Haven’t seen you out on stage yet.”

On stage? The delicate satiny material of his shirt with its froth of lace at the sleeve cuffs might qualify as pretty, but Blue was hardly dressed as a dancer. Either this drunkard couldn’t see that, or he simply assumed that any Monster here was one who might take off their clothes at any given moment to show the toy surprises inside. 

“I’m not a dancer,” Blue snapped, trying to pull away, “let me go!”

But he didn’t, his grip slid painfully down to Blue’s upper arm, his foul-breathed smile twisting, trying to form into something coaxing. “Come on, darlin’, I got a twenty-dollar bill that isn’t working too hard, could be yours.”

Disgusting _and_ cheap, what a horrid combination. Nausea lurched up unpleasantly, leaving sour taste in the back of Blue’s mouth. 

“I’m not for sale!” Blue snarled, even as a tiny piece of his soul snickered darkly, wondering if it was even true. Not for sale here, but upstairs in the garish wealth that lay behind closed doors, what about there, what about when faced with Red’s endless grins. 

Then his breath left him as he was shoved hard against the wall and any sort of humor fled, real fear blooming. This couldn’t happen, he wasn’t about to let this horrible person molest him and he knew well how to defend himself, an attack already trembling at his fingertips, but a Monster using magic on a Human could have terrible repercussions, not only for him, but the entire community. Would the police believe him if this man went bleating to them that he’d been attacked? Or would they take one look at the address and think that whatever this horrible man intended, that Blue had it coming. 

“Stop!” Blue shouted, trying to be heard over the thrumming music. There were other people close by, there was some safety in numbers but before he could cry out again the harsh blow of a fist caught him dead in the face, snapping his head back and thudding his head against the wall behind him. Blue sagged in dazed surprise, the sudden ringing in his skull coalescing into a high-pitched whine that drown out any other sound. He blinked dumbly, his vision swarmed with darkness and only distantly felt a rough hand worming under his shirt to fondle his ribcage, the hot, foul blurts of breath against his face as a heavy weight pressed him harder against the wall and— 

Before his mind could clear, that suffocating weight was suddenly torn away, letting him gasp in clear, deep breaths of uncomplicated air. 

Blue didn’t move, using the wall at his back to stay upright as he blinked uncomprehendingly at the scene unfolding before him. 

There was a Dog crouched close by on all fours, the coarse fur along the back of their neck raised and their eyes reddened in anger, jagged teeth bared in a vicious snarl, but the Human was already on his knees, twin ribbons of thin blood running from both nostrils as he whined and cringed away from the opposite wall. 

From that shadowy corner came a triple glow of crimson, revealed as a pair of eye lights and the glowing tip of a cigar as Red stepped from them. For all that his height was barely above Blue’s, somehow he seemed to loom over the whimpering Human, his bulk nearly blocking them from view. Red took a long puff from his cigar, blowing out a cloud of pale smoke. More smoke trickled from his sockets and it made the crimson of his eye lights seem to burn hotter than embers. 

“c’mon, pal, up you get.” Red grabbed the front of the Human’s shirt and hauled him to sit upright. He reached down to dust off the front of his suit jacket with mocking solicitude, his cigar leaving a trail of ash on the cheap polyester. 

The Human made a weak sound of protest, but he didn’t try to flee, only stared at Red, his eyes rounded marbles and his hands fisting against the tile floor, a paper tiger in the face of an actual beast. 

"chum, i’m kinda thinkin' you didn't read the rules of admission," Red grinned, and standing over the cowering man in his cheap suit, eye lights blazing coals that shifted and flickered in his sockets and his teeth a hungry grin, he looked like the Human’s devil himself. He crouched down and wiped away the blood trickling down from the Human's nose, rubbing his thumb and forefinger idly together as if testing the consistency. "rule is, keep ya hands to yerself. you get me?" He patted the Human's cheek, his sharp fingertips scraping lightly and leaving reddened trails behind. "cause when you touch what’s mind, means i get to touch you back, _capiche?”_

The Human nodded frantically, his head wobbling on his neck, a dandelion tottering in the wind from an incoming storm. 

“yeah, you understand,” Red crooned. His fingertips curled and the Human choked on a cry as they dug into his cheek, leaving four tiny, even puncture wounds to spill bloody streaks downward, dark rivulets in the dim light. "think you've already got a debt more’n you're worth.” Red stepped back and wiped his hand carelessly on his own fine jacket, the bloody smears hidden in the dark fabric. He nodded curtly to the Dog, gesturing sharply, “help him find his way out.”

The Dog let out a low bark that rumbled downward into a growl as they caught the sobbing Human under the arms and hauled him to his feet, shoved him stumbling away, clutching at his bloodied cheek. 

Red rolled his cigar to the other side of his mouth and shook his head with a deep sigh before turning to Blue, that fiery glare landing on him. “as for you—"

Before he could say another word, Blue burst into helpless tears, heaving out a sob as he buried his hot, stinging face into his hands. Humiliating as it was, he could have no more held back those tears than he could a flood, the broken dam of his control letting loose in a gushing torrent. He slid weakly down the wall, replacing his hands with his updrawn knees as he choked on the wails that threatened to escape along with his tears, weeping out all the swelling pain and fear of the past week in a glut of sobs. 

He didn’t even flinch from the awkward hand that settled on his shoulder, tentatively squeezing, “aw, c’mon, don’t do that.”

Blue only cried harder, his breath coming in hiccoughing gasps. He was exhausted, he’d spent so much magic today, he was sickened with worry for his brother, their lives were collapsing around them, and the feel of grubby Human hands still felt painted across his ribs, muddled fingerprints left behind on his bones. He couldn’t seem to stop crying, sobs hitching out of him until thick nausea was rising up from his soul, his abused magic curdling within him as he wept, almost lost in the ecstasy of his grief. 

Distantly, he heard a rough sigh and he couldn’t even cringe from the hands upon him, gently urging him out of his fetal curl, “okay, c’mere, come on, baby blue.” 

All his will had abandoned him, all his rebellious nature, and Blue only allowed Red to pull him close into a rough embrace, rubbing his back soothingly, if a little awkwardly.

Eventually, he ran out of tears, all his fears and pains as exhausted as the rest of him. His throat ached, a match to his face, and all he could do was lean into the unexpected comfort of the strong arms around him. Beneath his face, the front of Red’s shirt was darkened and soaked. 

“you okay?” Warily said, as if Red was afraid speaking would set Blue off again into gales of renewed weeping and Blue nearly let out a hysterical giggle, only barely swallowing it back. 

“Yes,” Blue managed. A horrible headache was looming, from crying surely and from that Human’s fist, and still he didn’t move from Red’s arms. How strange, he thought tiredly, that they were sitting here in the middle of a hallway in the back rooms of a strip club, the loud industrial music still throbbing around them with the occasional loud interruption from the DJ making their announcements, and yet, somehow Blue felt safe, as safe as he’d felt since the morning he’d arrived at their shop to find his brother’s favorite mug shattered on the stoop. 

He drew away, looking up at Red…who looked back warily, perhaps still worried that he might burst out crying again. He didn’t seem to care that they were both sitting on the filthy floor or that Blue had covered his fine shirtfront with all the fluids that came with a feverish crying jag. Other people walked past them, their curious gazes sliding over and past Red’s broad back as his bulk curled around Blue, shielding him from the rest of the club. From the world.

It was only then that Blue saw one of Red’s sockets was blackened and swollen, the lid half-closed. He gasped aloud, reaching out, his fingers hovering anxiously over the bruised bone, "What happened?"

"eh,” Red’s sharky grin curled up on one side. “my bro doesn't value my opinion on certain subjects.”

"Your brother hit you?” Blue asked, horrified. He couldn’t imagine raising a hand to his brother, no matter how frustratingly angry Papy could make him. 

“heh, don’t be too mad at him, baby blue,” Red chuffed out a rough laugh, “bro keeps his temper on a tight rein, but i can always get him to lose his grip. must be my charm.” 

Having borne the burden of Red’s ‘charm’ himself a time or two, that at least Blue could understand. “I can imagine. Here-" He reached out and Red flinched back, startled. "Let me heal you."

"don't think so, baby blue.” He’d lost his cigar somewhere in the midst of Blue’s storm of weeping and started patting at his pockets in search of another, “it'll heal on its own.” 

“That’s ridiculous,” Blue said firmly, still trying to reach out. He was quick, but Red proved to be quicker, somehow keeping out of reach without ever letting Blue go. Blue huffed out a frustrated breath. “I can help!”

“honey, you need to save your magic for yourself.” Red cupped the side of Blue’s face in his palm, his fingers still tinged bloody, and pressed a thumb lightly to Blue’s cheekbone. Pain flared and he flinched, imagining the ugly bruise that must be rising. It was true, his own magic was hardly recovered from all the gardening earlier in the day, both the rows of golden flowers and his time on the roof. If he healed Red, he likely wouldn’t be able to take care of his own wounds. But as he’d told Red before, he paid his debts, and their current arrangement was certainly putting him into the red, literally. 

“I want to help you,” Blue said stubbornly.

“heh, that’s a first.” Red gave up on finding a cigar, his smirk twisting, “okay, sweetheart, go on.”

Cautiously, Blue settled his hand over Red’s socket, ignoring the way Red’s fingers circled his slim wrist like a cuff, holding on. He called up his magic, guiding it with his Intent and a soft green glow formed in his palm. The magic twining briefly around his fingers, playfully following the path down to Red’s gripping fingers, before obeying Blue silent command and sinking into the damaged bone. Immediately the swelling began to fade, the darkened bone lightening again to ivory. 

Red’s half-hooded gaze opened wider, staring at Blue through the cage of his fingers until Blue tried to draw away.

Even then, Red’s grip loosened slowly, his fingertips lightly scraping the delicate bones of Blue’s wrist as he pulled free. “listen,” Red said, slowly, “i was lookin for ya to tell ya, your little bro is fine, he’s with mine right now. i’ll get him brought back to your room, _toot sweet_.”

Papy was fine. Blue closed his sockets briefly, tasting the ashes of shame; he’d forgotten his own brother was missing, forgotten his worries and fears in this moment of paying back a debt. 

There wasn’t time to wallow in his shame. Red rolled to his feet with a grunt, finally locating another cigar. He lit it with a flick of his thumb against a wooden match, puffing on it hard for a long moment before saying around it, “c’mon, i’ll take ya to your room.”

Without another word, Red started walking, his bulk clearing a path while Blue trotted along behind him. He tucked in his shirt as they went, straightening his clothes, and hyperaware of the gaze of those they passed. Gossip was surely already flying and what did it matter, anyway? His reputation was never going to survive being within these walls, the best he could’ve hoped for was the narrative labeling him a whore. Better that than the alternative, that people would think he was in business with the Fell brothers. Better than them knowing the truth.

Instead of the stairs, Red led the way to an elevator. It was small enough that he was forced to lean against Red, but that was all right. Tomorrow was soon enough to remind himself of Red’s variety of sins. 

Another Dog greeted them as the elevator doors opened, falling into step behind them. They positioned themselves by his door as Red paused in front of it, insurance against Blue wandering off again, he shouldn’t wonder. 

He found he didn’t mind it, at least not right now. 

“go to bed,” Red ordered through a cloud of foul-smelling smoke. “your bro will be back soon.”

Blue turned, for once willing to be obedient, then he paused and turned back. “Thank you,” Blue said with quiet sincerity and it was not only for the return of his brother.

“ain’t a problem, baby bl—"

Red broke off as Blue rose up on his toes to press a soft kiss to Red’s freshly healed cheek bone, a gentle, lingering touch. Behind him came a bemused sound from the Dog, and when he drew back Red was looking at him with an unreadable expression on his broad face. 

Blue ducked his head, breaking that stare as he whirled towards the door, fumbling it open and darting inside. He leaned against it and worked at evening out his shattered breathing. He needed to take a shower and get changed, needed to clean away the past few hours, and he would in just a moment. He would. 

His brother would be back soon, that was all that mattered, and Blue didn’t want to think any more about the cost.

* * *

tbc


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't read the tags on this in a while, scroll on up and take another quick look. Read 'em all. 
> 
> Good? And on we go!

* * *

Lilies were lovely flowers, and it was a damn shame that Humans seemed to only associate them with funerals and Easter. They made for a beautiful focal point in a bouquet, large waxy petals in a bright array of colors surrounding the dark stamen, dozens of them spilling out and around a vase or basket, brilliant shades complimented by a delicate frame of leafy greens. 

So many gorgeous colors available and Blue grew many of them, but the lilies Rus was working with were white, only a hint of creamy yellow at their centers. They smelled nearly as beautiful as the crimson roses that joined them, each delicate bloom nestled into its cushioning bed of neighboring white. 

_(A single red rose, please)_

Only Rus’s fingers were stained with redness, not from those velvety petals but from the thorns, the dark crimson of his own marrow spotting the lilies, smearing bloody across those pale petals and he couldn’t stop even as they began to wither under his touch, white petals spotted in redness curling up and dying, and—

Rus woke with a gasp, the cold sweat on his bones chilling him as the dream of withered petals slowly faded. He sank back against the mattress and ran a trembling hand over his face, grimacing at the dampness. 

Next to him, his brother slept on obliviously, his smaller frame buried deeply in the luxurious comforter on their borrowed bed. The bathroom light was on, seeping out to cast the room in shadows and even in the dimness, Blue’s much-loved face was lined with obvious exhaustion. The crow’s wing of a bruise running down his cheekbone wasn’t quite hidden into the pillow, stark against pale bone.

Thoughtlessly, Rus reached out with the vague idea to heal it and hesitated with his fingers still inches from that bruise. Tired as Blue was, he sure as hell wouldn’t be able to sleep through any sort of magic being used on him. Better to let him rest and take care of it when he woke up, and if looking at it made his gorge rise with swelling guilt, then Rus only had himself to blame. This all might have started with him getting dragged in, but things had changed since that day in the shop when he had hidden behind the counter in a stranger’s arms. 

That day was over and a new one was dawning, one where Rus complicit, for not listening to his brother’s warnings, for not keeping his distance, for letting his desire for Edge overrule his rather uncommon sense. 

No, that wasn’t entirely true, at least one other person was at fault here, the one who’d caused that bruise. He wasn’t sure he believed Blue that their so-called host wasn’t to blame; even if he hadn’t struck the blow, he’d obviously failed to protect them as promised. Broken promises tended to multiply, that was a hard lesson Rus learned while they were still Underground. 

Well, he certainly wasn’t lost in a mental fog any longer. He felt as if he were waking up from more than an unpleasant dream. His pleasure-tinted memories of last night in Edge’s bed had lost their luster the moment he got a good look at his brother’s bruised face and cold reality settled in its place, sinking down into the pit of his soul like cold water sinking to the ocean floor. 

Somehow, he’d been slowly starting to forget the truth; that he and Blue were here unwillingly, staying only for protection against revenge that hadn’t been theirs to begin with. They were very bad men, Edge warned Rus of that from the very beginning, and Edge was still planning on dealing with Blaze however he would; someone would likely be dead and dust by the end, and Rus couldn’t allow himself to forget that, if only to ensure that neither he nor his brother were part of it. 

Rus wrapped his arms around his legs, settling his chin on his updrawn knees. Where the hell did he think this was all going to go, anyway? When everything was said and done, and Blaze was dealt with, where did he fit in a place like this? He didn’t, that was how, did he really think he’d be able to finish up his shift at the shop making bouquets and then come back here to pretend he didn’t know what was happening around him, both inside and out of these walls. Even if Edge wanted him for longer than a few nights, Rus couldn’t do that. He couldn’t. 

His brother’s comment about getting paid well might have been cruel, but it wasn’t entirely untrue. Only it didn’t seem to be dollars that Rus was bartering with, but instead his own soul. 

No. He couldn’t let that happen, not to Blue. His brother worked so hard for everything they had ever since their pop left. He wasn’t going to throw it away, not for a few minutes of pleasure, he couldn’t. 

This would end eventually; they would go back to their home and their flower shop and leave all this madness behind, and though it made a fresh lump rise in his throat to think of it, Rus decided that he would tell all of this to Edge today. Whether it ended in pleading or demands didn’t matter, he was going to end whatever this was, could it even be called a relationship? All Edge knew about him was what he’d seen through a window. It was time to set aside this ridiculous fantasy, if not for himself then for his brother’s sake. 

The sheets were still clinging to him clammily, sweat from his nightmare drying uncomfortably on his bones. Rus slipped carefully from the bed, snatching up his phone and using the flashlight to help him pick out fresh clothes from the closet. 

It was still relatively early, only barely past six am, no wonder Blue was still sleeping. Normally, Rus would be as well, it was another hour before his time to groaningly drag himself out of bed and down to the shop for his daily shift. As tired as he was, the idea of crawling back in to lay on the damp sheets didn’t appeal much.

Instead, he went into the bathroom to change, this time in a pair of loose, flowing trousers with an oversized sweater layered over a plain button-up. It was a heck of a lot closer to something he’d find in his own closet, even if he could tell by the feel of the fabric that it was from some pricy department store and not the local thrift shop. He wondered idly if someone had actually gone shopping for these new clothes or if they’d simply ordered in like Chinese takeout. He had kind of a hard time picturing a delivery boy turning up at the back entrance of the club loaded down with bags of clothes instead of egg rolls. Whoever brought ‘em, he was reluctantly grateful for the quantity even as he shrank away at the thought of how long they might be intended to be there, and how could he stay away from Edge living directly down the hallway from him, how could he…? 

Rus resolutely pushed that thought aside, splashing cool water on his face and patting it dry. It was a good thing their closet was filled, he told himself, ‘cause the clothes he’d worn yesterday were downstairs in the stripper’s dressing room, probably never to be seen again.

That thought made him cast a guilty look at the clothes he’d worn up here, the ones loaned to him by Mona for her brief tutorial on dancing. They were lying in a careless pile leftover from last night’s shower and he bit the tip of his tongue worriedly. Maybe Mona would need them back, _someone_ had to. He could ask the Dogs to bring them to her with a note of thanks…or he could take them himself and let her know that he was all right. 

Plus, it’d be a chance to give her some proper gratitude for trying to help out. Sure, it hadn’t worked out the way he’d hoped, really not, but that wasn’t her fault, and she didn’t have the first idea how the story ended last night. Seemed like she should at least get to know Rus probably wasn’t gonna end up with cement shoes or anything, but this time, if he was going downstairs, he’d do it properly and walk. 

Decision made, Rus gathered up the clothes, folding them into a tidy bundle. They were rumpled and stank richly of sweat and sex. He blushed to think of returning them that way, but he couldn’t lie, it felt less embarrassing to bring them back to Mona than to leave it for the Dogs to find on laundry day. Worst that could happen with her was it would confirm some suspicions she already had.

He carried the bundle out of the bathroom with him, hesitating as he glanced at the bed and the lump in the covers that was his sleeping brother. This time there wouldn’t be any slipping off without a word, no more secrets, not if he could help it. He paused at the little table by the door to write his brother a note, his scribbly handwriting stating clearly that he was returning something downstairs and he’d be back soon. 

That was one thing done right, at least. 

That done, he slipped out the door to the hallway, closing the door hastily before the light could wake his brother. As expected, there was a Dog standing guard outside and it turned to him questioningly, its headed tilting to one side. 

“excuse me, can you take me downstairs to speak with the ladies?” Rus said. Firm yet polite seemed like the best route and he held up the bundle in his arms. “i have some stuff to take back to them.” He really hoped they didn’t offer to just take it for him and not just because there was no way a Dog wouldn’t pick up on the reek. He was gonna talk to Mona one way or another, flimsy excuse or not. 

The Dog said nothing, and Rus still wasn’t quite sure if that was a choice, an order, or simply a physical impossibility. It seemed to consider, then pulled out a cell phone, unhindered by its paws as it briskly tapped out a message. Whatever reply they received, they nodded and led the way down the hall to the elevator, the same one Edge brought him upstairs in, hey, he was starting to get the hang of this place. 

Once the doors open again, Rus took the lead, heading to the dressing room from last night. The Dog waited at the entrance as he slipped inside, clothes in hand. 

It was mostly empty now, none of the bustling and hurried dressing of the night before. The only stripper in the room was the Cat Monster…Lilith, that was her name, and her clothing was a stark contrast to their first meeting. Her revealing slip of a dress was exchanged for simple jeans and a t-shirt with ‘Bad Girl’ written in sparkly letters across the chest. She was tying the laces on her sneakers, glancing up and then again in a doubletake as she caught sight of him. 

She gave him a sultry smile, pink tongue curling over her lips. “Well, hey there, sugar skull, stopping in for another visit or are you hiding out again?”

“no, um,” Rus said, awkwardly. He held up the bundle. “mona loaned me some clothes, i was just bringing them back.”

“Oh, is that all?” she yawned, showing sharp teeth, “Night shift is over, hun, Mona’s gone for the day.” She tilted her head in the direction of a large bin that was already overflowing with clothes, bra straps and stockings hanging over the sides. “You can toss it in the pile, they’ll get take care of.”

Rus wavered, torn, then decided he didn’t need to keep them as an excuse to visit with Mona. A lack of one hadn’t stopped him yet. He tossed the bundle in the pile and started back out to the hallway, then hesitated to ask, “do you know when mona will be back?”

Maybe if she worked tonight, he could slip down to see her before she started for the night.

“Sorry, hun, schedules change. If you want to wait, I can check after I get a smoke. I’m dying for a cig.” She held up a pack of cigarettes and against his will, his gaze strayed to it longingly. He hadn’t had one in days now and his nicotine craving lifted its ugly, eager head, starting a painful itch in his marrow. Damn, he hadn’t even checked his backpack when the Dog gave it to him and didn’t remember if he had a pack of smokes in it. He sure wasn’t about to ask Edge or, angel forbid, Red for one. It might be days yet before he got out to buy a pack himself.

Lilith gave him a knowing look. “Want one, sweetheart? You got that kind of look.”

The sudden flood of saliva in his mouth was embarrassing, but eh, the rules were a little different for smokers, nothing wrong with bumming the occasional cigarette so long as it didn’t become another habit, a worse one than smoking itself. 

“i…yes,” Rus said gratefully, “if you don’t mind?”

“Nah, c’mon, I can share.”

She turned and walked towards the back of the room, her slender tail curling around her feet and Rus followed her to heavy door with a bright ‘Exit’ sign gleaming over it in neon red.

“I’d get a smack on the hand if they caught me sneaking out this way,” Lilith confided. Her whiskers quivered as she wrinkled her little muzzle. “But I can’t stand walking all the way ‘round for a quick smoke. I get enough exercise on the pole, you know?” 

He didn’t, but he could certainly guess. He followed Lilith outside into an alleyway lined with trash cans, the sky overhead tinged grey with the coming dawn. She shook out one for herself and lit it before handed over the pack, and the first hit of nicotine melded into his magic with deep, mellow relief. Talking didn’t seem necessary, Lilith only played on her phone while both of them smoked silently through their cigarettes and when Lilith was done, she tossed her butt to pavement already littered with dozens more and shook out another before handing the pack back to him. 

“May as well have another, honey,” she said, and he really shouldn’t, he had enough debt as it was, and what was that look she was giving him, something like regret…?

There was a sudden stinging at the back of his neck, coupled with hot breath, whispering low in flame-speak. _“Yes, do have another. It might well be your last.”_

The still smoldering butt fell from his nerveless fingers, falling into a puddle with a hiss, the dizziness already swarming over him distancing him from both his senses and his magic. He whirled clumsily around to see a fire Monster standing behind him, as tall as he was and nearly as broad as Red. The hectic flutter of his purplish flames cast the alley in disturbing shadows, devils dancing to their deaths in the slowly growing sunlight. 

Blaze.

Rus took a stumbling step back, fumbling at the door, but there was no handle on the outside, only smooth metal. He looked at Lilith disbelievingly, slurring out, “wha…why?”

Tears were streaming down her pretty face, soaking into the short fur. “I’m sorry, honey, I’m so sorry. He was offering money, so much money, you don’t understand what it’s like here—”

He didn’t hear whatever else she said as he was suddenly seized, pushed back against the rough bricks of the alley wall. Those deep purple flames managed to be somehow both dark and blinding, Rus squinting against that painful light, cringing away. 

“don’t—” Rus stuttered out. But his hands were disobedient and strengthless, pushing helplessly against Blaze’s shirt as he stepped closer, his surprisingly heavy body pinning him against the wall. His face was too close, burning fingers painfully pinching his chin and forced Rus to lift his head, the smoky ash of his breath gusting over Rus’s face. 

_“Perhaps I judged too quickly on Edge’s tastes. You are rather a pretty thing, after all.”_

Rus cried out, the sound muffled, choking as his mouth was taken in a rough kiss, the pained heat of flaming tongue forcing its way between his teeth. He didn’t think, could hardly manage a single idea past _no_. He bit down automatically, choking again as his mouth filled with bitterness reminiscent of gasoline. 

He nearly fell as he was released, gasping for breath, and he only barely managed to open his sockets enough to see the blow before it struck, his vision exploding into whiteness as Blaze backhanded him and sent him to his knees amidst the filthy puddles and the rotting old cigarette butts. 

Dazed, he could only watch as Lilith grabbed hold of Blaze’s arm as it rose again. “Stop it! You said you wouldn’t hurt him!”

 _“So I did,”_ Blaze said, and someone Rus couldn’t see was translating in a gleeful drawl, _“You should have secured the same promise for yourself.”_

A deafening sound rang through the alley and Rus stared dumbly as a bright blossom of red appeared on Lilith’s shirt, splatters of crimson stark against her white fur like winter berries in a snow bed. She looked down at herself in confused disbelief, touching that awful wound with trembling fingers and smearing that stain across her shirt as she slowly collapsed to the ground. Filthy water splashed, more redness tainting the puddle in a slowly spreading pool as she stared sightlessly up at the rising sun. 

In that moment Rus found his voice, managing to croak out something like a hoarse scream before a rough hand slapped over his mouth, the brutal grip painful on his jaw. 

_“Come on, put him in the backseat. I’ll see if I can keep our guest entertained for the trip.”_

He was dragged over to a waiting car, shoes scraping the pavement uselessly, barely noticing the leather seats beneath him. A door slammed and hot hands hauled him upright until he was sprawled awkwardly across an uncomfortable lap, a scorching mouth licking a painful path up his cervical vertebrae. Fingertips plucked threateningly at his clothes, but didn’t wander beneath them, and that only made Rus shudder helplessly, dizzily nauseous and numbly clouded in rising fear over what was to come.

 _edge. help me._ It was hardly more than a distant, uncertain thought, the words never making it to his slack mouth.

* * *

tbc


End file.
